The Gift
by cackles the witch
Summary: Sophie Lupin & her father, Remus, share a terrible burden. Or is it a gift? Better than the summary. From PoA & on. AU with bits of canon. RLNT, SBOC, some JPLE & others, eventually. Rated M for language and future content. Chapter 28 up!
1. Chapter 1: Daughter

**Hello, all!**

For those of you following my other story, 'Living Eternities', the next chapter is still being written. I've been having trouble with the Muses, who thought it would be amusing to stick this in my head instead. Not one to fight the Muses, I had to obey. So, yes, this is another story about a girl, an OC, and a daughter. But hopefully, you will find it different from LE. I've written the first two chapters so far and have a pretty clear idea about the rest (unlike LE, which is why the next chappie isn't up).

The story is not linear, but will be jumping from past to present in the life of the characters and will be told from several points of view. The chapter titles' are taken from songs that have inspired each in some way, like a soundtrack to the story. I'll list the title and artist at the beginning of each chapter.

Give it a chance. You might like it!

**Disclaimer:** Don't own any rights. Not making any profit. Only the OC is mine.

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Track 1: _Daughter_, Pearl Jam.

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**Chapter 1: Daughter**

Sirius Black was free. For the first time in twelve years, he was walking under the open sky, stars shining overhead like tiny twinkling fairies in treetops, that silver shell, better known as the moon, reminding him of happier times -- times he hadn't thought about for years. And yet, there was heaviness in his heart as he strolled through the woods, on the edge of civilization, or as close to civilization the countryside offered.

Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he was presently the canine Padfoot, forced to hide away in his animagus form for fear of Dementors, the Ministry and anyone who wanted to see the convicted and recently escaped mass murderer safely back behind the bars of Azkaban prison. Or perhaps it was the fact that he was on a mission to keep his godson, Harry Potter, safe from the treacherous Peter Pettigrew, the man who had betrayed the boy's parents years earlier, leading to their murders at the hands of the most evil wizard of the time and setting Sirius up to take the fall. Although all this weighed heavily upon his shoulders, at the moment, Sirius Black's only concern was a visit to an old mate. The only mate he had who was left alive.

Padfoot approached a cottage nestled in a clump of trees cautiously, his paws padding softly on the overgrown lawn, crunching yellow patches muffled underfoot. The house was shrouded in darkness, save for light emitting from the tiny windows at the front of the even tinier home. Padfoot felt his nerves grabbing hold of him as he stole around the side of the house and slunk into the back garden. The light inside spilled onto the lavender bushes from the back door, which he found, was ajar. _He must be out here_, he thought, panicking. He immediately stopped in his tracks and searched the garden with his keen grey eyes.

He sensed her before he spotted her. A teenaged girl under the largest tree at the end of the garden, leaning against the parched bark, cigarette in hand. She seemed to be trying to shrink from the light that cut through the garden, almost, but not quite, illuminating the taboo act. Though he was in canine form, his vision was not quite so good that he could make out her features, but he could tell she was too young to be smoking. Suddenly, she looked up and their eyes met. She seemed to look at him curiously, then smiled and beckoned him over. Sirius, as Padfoot, almost turned his head to see if she was calling over someone else but quickly thought better of it, as it wasn't usual canine behaviour. He trotted over to her, his tongue lolling out to one side for effect.

"Hi, there," she whispered, putting her fist out slowly. She obviously knew about dogs.

He sniffed her hand tentatively for a few seconds, then nudged it. Cautiously, she opened her fist, slowly placed it atop his head and scratched him gently between the ears.

"Where did you come from, hmm?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

He dared not make a sound. He wasn't sure if Remus was in the house. He wasn't even sure this _was_ his house anymore. It certainly didn't seem so, not from the teenage girl in the garden. _He's gone, _he thought suddenly.As soon as the realization hit him, disappointment set in at once.

"I don't suppose you want a ciggie?" she asked, chuckling softly.

He did. It had been a dozen years since his last one, and he suddenly craved it. _Damn_, he thought bitterly, eyeing the burning end of the fag in her other hand. Her free hand still stroking his head, she put the bit of cigarette left to her lips and took one long, last drag, then stubbed it out on the bottom of her trainers.

"Not from around here, are you?" she whispered, letting out a stream of smoke as she spoke.

He whimpered softly.

"You hungry, boy?"

He was. More than a cigarette, he craved a hot meat pie, or a bowl of steaming stew, but he knew – if he was lucky – the most he would get was scraps. Still, he whimpered once more hopefully_. At least I might get a meal out of this trip_, he thought. _Won't be a waste of time, after all._

The young girl got up slowly, so as not to make any noise. "Wait here," she breathed as she tiptoed back across the lawn, careful to stay out of the light. He sat under the tree, rooting around hopefully in the grass for the end of a fag. He came up empty. _Shite_.

He waited hopefully for five minutes, his stomach growling fiercely as he did. The last he'd eaten was days ago, and that had been a meager meal of potato peels and the fat end of a carrot, lopped off and discarded in a bin that sat outside a house along Privet Drive. He'd trotted up and down that street for days, waiting to see Harry, though he knew it was ridiculous to think he would recognize his godson after so many years.

But he had. The moment he'd seen him, he had.

It was as if an underfed version of James was walking purposefully down the street, though, even in the dark, his green eyes shone just like Lily's. The odd thing was, he was pulling a large trunk along behind him and carrying an empty birdcage just the right size for an owl. It worried him, and he followed his godson closely, careful to stick to the shadows so as not to be seen, but determined to see where the boy was going at the unlikely hour. But cautious as he was, he'd frightened the boy when he stepped out of the shadows and stared at him. Harry, taken by surprise, had stumbled to the ground, his wand hand flying into the air and summoning the Knight Bus. _You idiot_, he berated himself, _you're a great shaggy beast!_ _Who wouldn't be frightened of you?_ The last he saw of his godson, he was being helped onto the purple Double - Decker by a pimply – faced conductor, who loudly (and thankfully) announced Harry's destination – Diagon Alley.

Knowing he would be safer there than on the streets alone, and not being able to venture too near to a spot where he was most likely to be recognized, Sirius decided to visit his old mate. He lived near enough Surrey, after all, and Sirius, having long ago forgiven his friend for believing him guilty of killing Peter and all those muggles (he hated to admit it, but Peter _had_ gotten the better of him), was curious to see how Remus was faring. He also longed to see a familiar face, even though the man to whom the face belonged still believed him guilty of betraying Lily and James.

As his canine stomach gurgled hopefully, Sirius heard the unmistakable sound of Remus' voice.

"What are you doing?"

He froze. He was suddenly very aware of how foolish he'd been to venture so closely to Remus' house. They weren't friends anymore. In Remus' eyes, _he_ was the enemy.

"I was just getting a snack," came the young girl's reply.

_Who is she?_ he thought, suddenly curious.

"_Really_," he heard Remus respond doubtfully.

Sirius stuck his head out from behind the tree hoping for a look at the man who had once been like family. He was not disappointed. Blocking the light was the tall, gangly form of Remus Lupin, standing over the young girl, who just reached his shoulders. He couldn't make out his face clearly but he could tell the sandy brown hair, once flecked with grey, was now liberally so, unkempt and seeming to glow faint under the light, contrasting with the young girl's honey coloured mane. Her face, however, was more visible from that angle, her features unobscured by the sheet of darkness outside. His grey eyes roamed over her as the realization hit him.

_She looks just like – but, no, it's not possible…_

But he was unable to finish his thought. Remus suddenly walked out into the garden, his head turning this way and that.

"Is there someone out here with you?" he asked the girl.

"No," came the quick reply.

Remus turned his back to where Padfoot was hiding. There was a moment of silence. _He must be giving her 'the look'_, he thought with some amusement. He was surprised that he remembered that look all too well.

"All right," she said with a tone of defeat, "if you must know, I was going to feed Wilbur a snack."

_Wilbur?_

"Sophie," came Remus' soft reply, "you know we can't afford to feed the pig our dinner." The guilt in his voice was unmistakable.

Padfoot heard soft grunting noises and the gentle cluck of chickens just behind him. _How did I miss that?_

"I know," she said, just as softly, "I just wanted to give him a treat." She hung her head low and Sirius was sure he saw her bottom lip jutting out. "I mean, we'll be leaving him soon, and I … I know it's stupid, but I want him to remember me when I'm gone."

Sirius was impressed. Whoever she was, she knew just what strings to tug on old Moony.

"Alright," he said, giving in, just as Sirius expected he would. "Just this once." He pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear affectionately. "Make it quick, though, it's late."

Remus disappeared from the doorway into the cottage. The young girl, who Remus had called Sophie, waited a moment then walked back out into the garden, closing the door behind her. The absence of light made it hard for Padfoot to see her approaching. Fortunately, his other senses kicked in. As she set down a bowl of leftovers by the tree's roots, he became aware of her scent.

_No_, he thought, shaking his head, _it can't be._

"What's wrong, mutt?" she asked in an amused whisper, "don't like dad's cooking?" He lifted his head and, forgetting he was a big black dog, stared into her eyes only to find them looking back at him more curious than ever.

_Dad?_

The smile on her face slipped a little and she stiffened.

_That means…_

Her eyes widening, she backed away slowly.

_Oh, Merlin, this girl is Moony's daughter!_

"What are you?" she asked, breathless with fear.

He realized he was staring and, panicking, quickly turned, intent on running, and slammed his snout right into the tree. Smarting from the shock and pain, he whimpered loudly.

_Oh, shite_, he thought, _he's bound to hear that._ He was right. A few seconds later, the back door flew open and Remus bounded into the darkness.

"Sophie, what was that noise?" he said, an obvious note of panic in his voice.

But she didn't have to answer. Remus locked eyes with Padfoot and a look of loathing, fear and anger fell over his worn face.

"You!" he said with a force unlike any Sirius had ever heard come from his mate. It made his fur stand on end.

"Sophie, get in the house!"

He grabbed her roughly by the arm and shoved her towards the back door, placing himself between his daughter and Sirius as if determined to protect her with his life. Sirius watched in fascinated horror as his old mate whipped out his wand and just barely got hold of himself in time to dodge a Stunner aimed at him. It hit the tree with a sickening crack and the bark split, a gaping hole smoking ominously where his head had been only seconds before.

Wha_t the fuck, Moony! _he thought angrily, growling loudly out of instinct.

He leapt out from the tangle of bushes where he had landed and tore towards the side of the house, as spell after spell whizzed by his head and landed around him. All he could think to do was run as he galloped full force off of the property and towards the thick clump of trees across the lane. He didn't look back, and, running full tilt, didn't stop until he his tongue was almost touching the ground and his heart felt like it was about to explode.

**888888888888**

Sophie watched, frightened, as her father paced on the worn hearthrug by the fireplace, agitated and angry.

"Dad," she said timidly, "Who was that?"

He stopped and looked at her. Draining his face of all emotion, he knelt by her feet. "No one darling." He stroked her face reassuringly and tried to smile. Sophie noticed his hand shaking against her cheek.

"Don't lie to me," she said, barely audible. She had never seen her father like this and was determined to understand what had just happened.

"Oh, darling, I'm not lying," he said, a forced calm to his voice, "I just… I panicked, you know, I… I thought it was a Grim."

The words sounded false. "You don't believe in that rubbish," she challenged, "You've said so yourself – loads of times," she added.

He dropped his hand from her face and leaned back on the heels of his feet. "Sophie," he said, "I was being foolish, I know, but I heard a noise and I panicked."

She wasn't convinced.

"Look, I've just been jumpy lately over all this Azkaban business," he said, waving a hand and getting to his feet. "I heard a noise, I saw that great big beast of a stray and I overreacted." He saw the look of skepticism on her face. "I'm your father, I'm entitled to be protective," he added a little forcefully.

He turned his back to her and set about picking up the books in neat little piles on the floor by his favourite chair.

Sophie sat on the worn sofa silently watching her father for a minute or so, not entirely convinced of his explanation. He was obviously lying but she just couldn't figure out why.

"It's late," he said, without stopping or looking at her, "you should get some rest."

She was sure it had to do with the dog that Sophie was convinced _wasn't_ a dog at all. Its eyes were too haunted and full of understanding to be simply canine. No, it had to be a person, an animagus.

Sophie had heard of them when she was very young. Her mother, unable to bring herself to tell Sophie the truth that she was a werewolf, had come up with an elaborate lie. She told the young girl she had a "special gift", giving her the ability to turn into an animal. She made it sound like a coveted ability that other witches and wizards would kill for. What she hadn't told her was that unlike an animagus, she couldn't control when she turned or what she could do when she had.

For the first four years of her life, as far as she remembered, Sophie never understood why she shook violently and went sick all over herself every month but never turned anything but weak and pale. It wasn't until after her fourth birthday that something changed to make her believe her mother's words. She remembered the moon coming out from behind the clouds, full and shining bright in the black sky as she lay moaning and aching in her little bed one cold winter night. She didn't know exactly what dying was, only that it hurt and made people disappear, but she was sure that night she was dying and she was more frightened than ever. It didn't help that her mother, who usually held her hand whenever the pain and nausea came, refused to touch her that night. Instead, she stood in the corner of Sophie's bedroom, her wand pointed at the little girl, a look of terror on her face.

Sophie didn't remember much about that night, except blinding pain, the feeling of being ripped apart and feeling like she needed to hurt someone as much as the excruciating pain that seared into every joint and muscle was hurting her. The next morning, when she awoke in her bed, covered in scratches and dried blood, her mother barely spoke to her, instead flicking her wand silently to clean her up, and sitting on the edge of the bed with bandages and potions. The day after that, Sophie's mother packed all the little girl's worldly possessions into a small trunk and told her she was going to live with her father.

The father, until that day, Sophie never knew she had.

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So, what did you think? Please review and let me know! 

The next chapter is already written and will be posted in a couple of days.

**Coming Soon -** Chapter 2: _A Certain Romance_ – set in the time of the Mauraders, starring James, Sirius, Remus and Peter. When their only worries were whether their pranks would go off without a hitch, when Lily Evans would finally notice James was a catch, and whether or not they would pass Astronomy, the four roommates and best friends have their friendships tested by a girl…


	2. Chapter 2: A Certain Romance

The next chapter takes place during the sixth year at Hogwarts for Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, outlining a brief but certain romance.

Warning: Contains language. That's all. For now.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any rights to the Potterverse, nor do I claim to be anywhere near as brilliant (or wealthy) as Ms. Rowling.

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Track 2: _A Certain Romance_, The Arctic Monkeys**

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**Chapter 2: A Certain Romance**

"Oi, Moony!"

Sirius Black startled Remus out of his trance.

"Roll up your tongue and let's get the _fuck _out of here!"

He coloured. He'd been staring at the pretty brunette seated at the end of the Ravenclaw table, Eris Sloane, all through dinner without realizing he'd been so obvious.

He looked over at James, who had just finished downing the last of his pumpkin juice and had dribbled it all over his front in haste.

"You should just talk to her, Remus," he said smiling, oblivious to the juice stains on the front of his robes.

Remus, feeling at once completely naked and rather foolish, feigned innocence at the comment and got up, nodding noncommittally to James while Peter stuffed his pockets with leftover desserts and Sirius tossed his perfect mane unconsciously, somehow managing to make it look masculine and causing a small group of Hufflepuff girls at the next table to squeal with giddy glee.

Sirius, turning his attention back to Remus, blurted, "Look, if you're gonna do it, do it now, we've important things to do."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "_Things_?"

"Yeah," he answered determinedly, "pranks to pull, Slytherins to hex, birds to snog… no, sorry, the last one's just me."

James rolled his eyes comically, his head snapping away from them suddenly as Lily Evans passed.

Remus, used to James' fleeting attention whenever the love of his life entered his field of vision, ignored his mate's rudeness and continued his conversation with Sirius.

"Perhaps if I got a reaction like that," he said, thrusting his chin in the direction of the Hufflepuff table.

Sirius glanced over at the girls, noticing them for the first time. _Must be nice to be so oblivious to your effect on the opposite sex_, he thought a little jealously, then immediately felt guilty for thinking it. It wasn't Sirius' fault he so good – looking, after all.

Sirius looked back at him, an exasperated look on his face. "Look, Moony, you don't need _that_," he said, pointing and causing the girls to giggle and squeal once more, "you've got loads to offer!"

Remus felt a flush coming over him. They never spoke like this to each other. This sort of pep – talk, while brief, was usually reserved for James. That is, until Sirius had grown tired of his pining for Lily and switched to taunting him in third year.

"Let's just go," he said, suddenly wanting to get out of the Great Hall as quickly as possible.

Sirius gave him a hard look. "That's it," he said firmly, "you're growing some bollocks."

To Remus' surprise and horror, Sirius suddenly grabbed his thin, bony wrist with his massive hand and began to drag him towards the Ravenclaw table.

"What in _Merlin_ are you doing?!" he exclaimed, panicking.

"Playing Cupid, you git," he answered.

Remus struggled to break free, but Sirius, having the advantage of upper – body strength gained from playing the position of Beater on the House Quidditch team, held on tightly and before he realized, they were standing in front of the pretty brunette, who was eyeing them curiously.

"Oi, you're Sloane, right?" Sirius asked brusquely.

"Eris," she said.

Sirius looked confused for a second.

"Her first name," whispered Remus, so only Sirius could hear him.

"Right," Sirius said, unfazed. "I'm Sirius Black," he continued.

"I know," she answered dryly. The way she said those two little words made Remus' heart sing.

"This is Moo – Remus Lupin," Sirius went on.

"Hi, Moo, Remus Lupin," she said in an amused voice.

Remus, unable to answer, as he was still struggling with shock, anger and incredulity at Sirius, gave a lopsided smile. To his delight, she smiled back.

"Listen," Sirius went on, breaking the tiny connection he'd just made with the girl of _his_ dreams, "my mate here fancies you – "

Remus wanted to die.

"— And though you don't know him, take it from me, he's a good sort of bloke. Kind, gentle, considerate, you know all that shite girls fancy in a fellow – "

Remus wanted to kill him.

" – You should give him a chance. Let him take you out next Hogsmeade weekend, you'll see I'm right."

Remus wanted to disappear. Instead, he stood there, his face burning. _Sirius is going to pay for this_, the thought vengefully, as the image of a bald Sirius flashed before his mind's eye.

Eris Sloane looked from Remus to Sirius, a thoughtful look on her face. _Merlin, she's beautiful when she thinks_, he thought suddenly.

"_You're_ not going to be there, are you?" she asked Sirius.

" 'Course not." He gave her a look.

"And he does _speak_, doesn't he?"

Sirius grunted a yes impatiently.

"Okay."

Sirius gaped, as if he hadn't been expecting that answer. "Right," he said after a moment, sounding doubtful. "Good."

He started to walk away, pulling Remus, who was still firmly clenched in his fist.

"Oi, Black!"

Sirius and Remus, surprised, both turned back to face her.

"Yes?"

"Tell your mate I look forward to it," she said, beaming.

"Right," Sirius said, before turning and heading towards the exit, where Peter and James were waiting for them, apparently amused.

"So, how'd it go?" asked James as they approached their mates.

Remus wasn't really sure. He'd never asked a girl out before and though he now had a date with the most beautiful girl – to him – in sixth year, he supposed, technically, he still never had.

Before he could answer, Sirius jumped in. "Our Moony's got a date next weekend," said, Sirius, sounding like a proud parent.

"Good for you, mate," James said, slapping him on the shoulder. Remus winced. He really hoped Eris wasn't watching.

"Yeah, great Moony," Peter chimed in, a little too enthusiastically. Remus felt bad for him. He was the only one of the four of them that still hadn't even held a girl's hand.

"Well, then, now that's taken care of," James said, "why don't we go and finish off our plans."

They headed towards the staircase, pushing through the throng of students on their way out of the dining hall. As they walked down the corridor towards Gryffindor Tower, Peter listening patiently to James as he retold, in detail, how he was sure Lily had looked at him twice that day, Sirius, walking with Remus just behind their mates, grabbed his elbow, and leaned in confidentially.

"No need to thank me, Moony," he said, feigning hurt feelings.

Remus couldn't help but smile. "_Oh yes_," he answered, "_thank you_ Padfoot, for handing me my bollocks."

Sirius gave a barking laugh. "Anytime, my friend, anytime."

"You do realize," said Remus, becoming more serious, "if it hadn't worked out, I would never have spoken to you again."

"'Course you would," said Sirius airily, "I'm the charming Sirius Black, you wouldn't be able to resist talking to me again."

Remus shook his head as they entered the portrait hole into the Common Room. "You know, your charm doesn't work on everyone," he remarked, thinking back briefly to Eris' response to his mate.

"No," he admitted, causing Remus to give him an incredulous look, "but it works on _you_."

He gave a coy smile and joined the others as they leaned over a sheet of parchment, laying out the plans for their next prank.

Remus had been slightly surprised by his mate's bold statement, but looking over at his three closest friends – James with his easy smile, Peter with his sweet disposition and Sirius with that mad, confident glint in his eyes – he supposed it was true. They each had their own charms, accepting the werewolf among them the one charm they held in common. For Remus, it was that one charm that ensured he could never stay angry with them for very long. And it was the one charm that ensured he would always give in to Sirius Black.

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"Listen, mate," said Sirius, clearly troubled, "I know you like the girl, but just be careful."

It had been three months since Remus' first date with Eris Sloane on Hogsmeade weekend. It had gone extremely well, so well, in fact, that she was now his girlfriend.

"Why?" Remus asked. It was unlike Sirius to be so concerned. It was even less like him to pass on a night –time food raid with James in order to speak to Remus alone in their shared dorm room.

"I don't know, there's just something," he hesitated, "_off _about her."

It was Remus' turn to be sound doubtful. "Really," he said, irritated.

It had been Sirius who'd brought them together, Remus knowing he never would have drummed up the courage to ask her out himself, and ever since he'd announced to his mates that he and Eris were officially dating, Sirius had seemed less than pleased.

He was always commenting, whenever she and Remus were together, that they should "get a room", though they never engaged in public displays of affection. He also liked to goad her by making snide comments about Ravenclaw House and its members, like calling them a bunch of "pansies," to which she responded by telling him she thought pansies were really very pretty and then telling him to stuff it in the most polite way he'd ever seen someone tell another person off.

Her sweetness and candor were the two things he liked most about her.

"Yeah, and those enormous dirty pillows have nothing to do with it," Sirius had commented crudely when he'd confessed that he thought he was in love to James one night from his bed.

He'd been sure Sirius and Peter were sleeping. He never would have said it out loud if he'd known Sirius was listening to every word.

"You know, Black," James had countered, "some of us look past a girl's body and into her soul."

Remus had cringed. It was exactly the sort of dopey thing James would say when thinking about Lily. It was also the reason he'd felt it safe to confide in his infatuated mate.

"Right," Sirius had retorted sarcastically, "so I guess Remus never noticed her long hair, long legs… oh, and that mouth that looks like it could suck – "

"Don't you dare finish that sentence!"

Chuckling viciously, Sirius continued. "And you James, you're telling me you never noticed Evans' firm, round arse?"

"Watch it, Black!"

"Like you don't stare at it every chance you get!"

"I'm warning you, Padfoot!"

"She should charge a galleon every time she wiggles it for you, maybe a pound note; you could stick it in her knickers – "

Sirius never finished that sentence. James jumped up from his bed in a rage, his left fist flying in the air and landing with a dull thud across Sirius' face. Sirius, looking shocked for a second, promptly sent both fists flying, an ugly look on his face.

The fight ended with Peter's front teeth being knocked out when he accidentally jumped between James and Sirius (Actually, all Peter did was wake up when the two friends, who lived – and fought – like brothers, ended up on his bed after destroying half the room as they launched themselves at each other with every ounce of strength each of them possessed.)

Incredibly, after receiving a lengthy detention from Professor McGonagall, who was "_mortified and disgusted_" by their immature behaviour, they were back together the next day, laughing and talking as if nothing had ever happened. Unfortunately, Remus, though outwardly forgiving, could not forget so easily. From that day on, he wondered why the boy, who had more girls throwing themselves at his feet than any one man could handle, begrudged him possibly his only chance at happiness.

"She just seems, I don't know… _peculiar._"

Recently, Sirius had taken to referring to her as Yoko Ono behind her back, but, unfortunately, to Remus' face. He had no idea what Sirius meant – Eris, a smart girl with a beautiful smile, was the epitomy of normal – but thought vaguely he knew where this conversation was heading.

"Why, because she hasn't thrown herself at you?" He was aware of the hint of anger in his voice. From the look on his face, Sirius was aware of it, too.

Before Sirius could respond, James and Peter walked into the dorm, their hands full with puff pastries and bottles of butterbeer. They looked from Remus to Sirius, immediately sensing the tension in the room.

"What's going on?" James asked.

Neither of them answered immediately. After a moment, Sirius, tearing his eyes from Remus' angry glare, looked at his mates. "Is any of that for me?" he asked, ignoring their curious looks.

Peter looked down at the sweets in his arms and pulled back instinctively. "You should have come down to the kitchens with us if you wanted a snack," he whined.

"What, you're going to eat all that yourself, Wormtail?" Sirius asked, a hint of cruelty creeping into his voice. "Get any fatter and you won't fit through the portrait hole!"

James dropped the food in his arms. "Oi!" he exclaimed, his voice rising.

Remus knew his hurtful words had nothing to do with Peter. Something was obviously bothering him. He thought it had little to do with Eris as well, and everything to do with his family, who'd just disowned him (though Remus wasn't supposed to know).

"That's really uncalled for, Sirius," he said calmly, despite his growing anger. Evidently, it was the wrong thing to say.

"What are you, my mother?" he blasted, losing his temper all of a sudden.

"No, he's just telling you there's no reason to be such a git," James retorted. Only James would dare to speak to Sirius like that when he was in a huff.

"Fuck you, Potter," he seethed.

Remus was shocked. So were James and Peter, the latter turning red in the face and the former glued to the spot where he stood, puff pastries threatening to tumble out of his arms.

"What the fuck's your problem, mate?" James seethed back.

Remus felt like he had to step in. "It's nothing to do with either of you," he said, his voice startling him with how haughty he sounded, "Sirius here just hates my girlfriend for no good reason." He couldn't bare another row between the two friends like the one a month ago.

Sirius tore his eyes away from James and looked at him inquisitively. "Do you _really_ want to know why I don't like your bird, mate?" he asked threateningly.

"Yes." He saw a fleeting look of worry cross James' face and knew instinctively they'd discussed the matter before.

Seeming to forget his anger, James gave Sirius an imploring look, which Sirius seemed to ignore.

"Your girlfriend, as you call her, is – " he hesitated, his eyes darting back to James momentarily. Remus felt hurt at the realization that James knew exactly what Sirius was about to say.

" – She' a slag," he finished.

"What?" he said, surprised that James was uttering the very same word.

"She's been cheating on you with a Slytherin," he said quickly.

He didn't believe it. "Who?" he demanded.

"Does it matter?"

WHO?"

"My brother!"

Remus couldn't believe Sirius would believe anything his brother said. He hated him. "What makes you so sure, did Regulus tell you that?"

"N-no," he stammered, "I – I saw them!"

Remus noticed an odd look come over James' face.

"How? When?"

"It doesn't matter!"

"I don't believe you."

"For fuck sake's Moony, why would I make it up?"

Remus didn't know what to say, how to feel. He felt as if his stomach had dropped to his feet. He shook his head, not wanting to believe it, but knowing that if Sirius was telling him, it must be true. _He wouldn't lie to me about something like that, would he?_ Without thinking, Remus dropped onto the edge of the bed, all hope and happiness draining out him. His eyes fixed to the floor, he felt a hand on his shoulder moments later.

"I'm sorry, mate," Sirius breathed, sounding genuine. "I didn't want to hurt you, but… but I just couldn't stand back and watch her make a fool of you anymore."

Remus stayed silent as tears collected at the corners of his eyes, threatening to tumble onto his robes. He felt the fool; the complete and utterly blind fool who couldn't see his own girlfriend was cheating on him. A hundred questions suddenly entered his mind: How long had she been cheating? How far had she gone with Regulus? How many times had they laughed at him behind his back? But even though his heart was breaking, his mind was telling him something wasn't right.

He'd never had the feeling she was betraying him in any way. She'd never given him cause to even suspect. Was she that callous and calculating that she had been able to fool him so completely? It just didn't fit with the girl he knew, the girl who, when they were alone, would look into his eyes and confess every emotion without words or gestures, her own dark eyes betraying the girl she presented to the world.

It just didn't make sense.

"Moony?"

Sirius' voice brought him out of his confused thoughts. He looked up and noticed Sirius and Peter by his side. James hovered, unseen, just behind them.

"You know what you have to do, right?" Sirius asked.

Remus looked at him blankly, unable to think clearly.

"You have to break it off. Today."

* * *

If you get the feeling Sirius is being a lying bastard, well... but don't worry he's not going to be OOC... I know Eris is barely a person in this chapter, but I swear she will turn up more fully formed later on in the story...

I hope it was satisfying... Let me know!

**Coming Soon** (but not as soon as this - sorry) - Chapter 3: _Today_ - taking off from where chapter 1 left off, Sophie struggles with her father's odd behaviour, and being a teenage girl who just happens to also be a werewolf while Sirius struggles to understand how Remus could have a daughter...


	3. Chapter 3: Today

**Hi!**

This story seems to be coming to me much easier than the other one, which is still slow in coming...so, here, for anyone who's following (and I know you're out there, though you wouldn't know it from the lack of reviews -- but I won't beg!), here's the next chapter, a line of which was inspired by the Smashing Pumpkins song, '_Today_'.

**Disclaimer:** The Potterverse, alas, is not mine, I just borrow for fun (and not for profit).

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* * *

Chapter 3: Today **

Sophie slumped lazily on a rock by the pond near her home. It was a scorching summer day, a day so hot you could fry eggs in the sun, even in the shade, where she sat. She thought fleetingly of her animals, safely ensconced at old Sir Higginbottom's farm. (He ran the fruit and vegetable stand on the edge of town, where the main road to town branched off.) He was the last of long line of a magical family that had died out over the years from freak accidents. The townspeople, most of them muggles who had no idea the old man was a wizard, believed the Higginbottoms were cursed. Sophie thought it was probably true. He had the pallor of a man who worried too much and lived too little. But he was a decent man. He had to be, to agree to care for Sophie's pet pig Wilbur, who ate his weight in scraps every meal, and her hens, Frida and Jane, both or which rarely laid any eggs.

Sophie was a little sad to leave her pets for another school year (she'd had Wilbur for ages and the hens were a gift from a neighbour on her eleventh birthday) but was excited her father would be joining her at Hogwarts in four days' time as the new Defense against the Dark Arts professor. She knew it was odd for a fifteen - year - old girl to want to see her parents – or in her case, parent – more often but she wasn't like most fifteen - year - old girls. The proof of that adorned her lithe body.

Sophie stared at the still water, watching the water bugs occasionally skimming the surface. The clear azure water looked so inviting, but it was the middle of the day, and even though there was not a person in sight and her keen senses didn't pick up any scent of humans nearby, she was still hesitant to shed her clothes and dive in.

She traced along her collarbone absentmindedly as she contemplated doing the unthinkable, skimming a long delicate finger softly along an old scar. Her body was riddled with them. '_Pink ribbons_' her father called them when she was a little girl. " Oh, look, another pink ribbon," he would say with a small smile when another of her self – inflicted cuts and gashes would heal over, the redness finally fading to a less conspicuous shade. Even then, she knew it didn't change what they were but it made her feel better to think of them as physical adornments. It helped her get through the days.

She looked down at her arms, which were, miraculously, only faintly scarred on the undersides of each (from where she dug in her claws in frustration at the age of five one full moon), and made up her mind. _I'll just keep my bra and knickers on_, she told herself resolutely, knowing that it wouldn't matter if she were stark naked if someone happened to see her. It wouldn't make a difference if they were muggle or magical either; either way there would be trouble. The muggles would assume she'd been abused and likely call the authorities and the wizards would immediately recognize her for what she was.

A werewolf.

From there, she would likely get reported to the Ministry, which was the last thing she wanted. Not only because, as a '_dark creature_' she was unregistered (and untagged), but because she lacked the one thing that made all the difference in the world to the Ministry – a bite mark. The absence of _that_ meant that she was born, not made, and therefore, a violation of ancient wizarding law.

According to this law, enacted over one hundred years before she was born, she shouldn't exist. Her mother, Eris Sloane, the daughter of a well – to – do pureblood family, hid the fact that she was carrying the child of a werewolf from everyone, except her parents, who expelled her from the family home unceremoniously and disinherited her, telling friends and family she had run off with a good – for – nothing muggle and turned her back on the wizarding world. At least that's what her mother told her. It was one of the few things she remembered, though her mother never mentioned the part about why her family turned her back on her, only that it happened. Sophie figured out the truth by the time she was five – she'd been about to give birth, at the age of seventeen, to an abomination, and her family wouldn't accept it (though she couldn't figure why they never turned her into the Ministry, which would have compelled her to rid of the child).

She stood in the shade for a while; gathering up the courage to do what she longed to do. Looking around once more for reassurance, she pulled off her worn canvas trainers and slipped off her faded tee shirt and jeans. Smiling to herself, she climbed swiftly onto a rock and dove in, head first, breaking the surface of the still pond with barely a splash.

The water soothed her skin as she glided through the bottom and pushed her way to the surface with ease, the sun warming her immediately as her head bobbed above. A warm, content feeling spread through her as she swam easily from one end of the pond to the other. To Sophie, gliding through the pond felt a little like flying, though she preferred the feel of water surrounding her rather than air. The weight against her body was constant in the water, and the gentle lapping as she moved felt cool on her skin. She lay on her back, floating aimlessly, her eyes closed and her thoughts on pause. Drunk on the pleasure of the moment, she failed to notice the keen grey eyes watching her closely from above.

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Padfoot lay flat on a small rock ledge, cut into a tall rocky wall by the pond. He knew it wasn't supposed to be there, it had been a present to Remus from his father, a surprise for his ninth birthday. The wall, conjured from a town on the west shores of England using complicated magic, was tall enough to obscure the pond, and served as a barrier as well as a makeshift diving board. John Lupin also made other changes just for his son. The pond had been deepened for safety and the surrounding woods charmed to keep people out at every full moon, allowing the werewolf to roam free without fear of injury or discovery, and making the bit of wooded area near their home a sort of playground for his son, the wolf. Sirius knew his mate had loved to swim in this pond as a child, though he frequented it only at night with his father because the charms didn't work all the time. During the day, anyone could go for a swim, though to muggles, the rock wall, sticking out like a sore thumb, wasn't visible. But Remus could never enjoy a daylight swim because, unfortunately for him, his scars were.

Sirius, as his canine alter ego, watched his old mate's daughter with curiousity and awe. She was a brave kind of girl to shed her clothes in the middle of the day and go for a swim with the possibility of someone seeing her marked body. Brave, he thought, and foolish. He was glad she had the sense to keep her underpants on, it gave him the sense he wasn't entirely a pervert, watching Remus' teenage daughter in her state of near – undress. Had he known what she was about to do, he wouldn't have followed her into the woods, though he _had_ followed her since she'd left the Lupin family cottage at the end of a deserted lane, and walked aimlessly to other end of town. Along the way, someone would occasionally wave a brief hello, and she would return the greeting, but never stopped to chat. When she came upon a trio of teenage girls who threw her looks and began to whisper behind their hands as she passed, she set her face stoically and ignored them. Sirius saw that she was aware of it but seemed to bear it well. _Just like Moony_, he thought, with a little sadness. Her reaction to a group of boys, who seemed a little older, cat – calling to her as she approached the lane back to her house (he wondered what Moony would say if he knew), Sirius noticed, to his amusement, was almost the same except for the marked difference of the middle finger of her right hand stuck clearly up in the air as she passed. _Definitely not like Moony_, he corrected, amused.

He continued to watch the girl, fascinated, as she floated in the center of the pond on her back, the sun illuminating the etching of scars on her stomach and thighs.

He'd had weeks to get used to the idea that Remus was a father, but still, when he saw his mate's teenage daughter again, after returning from a brief visit to London to check that Harry was safe, he found the incredulous feeling that hit him that night in the garden was still lingering. It was still unfathomable to him that this girl existed but it made sense of so many things, answering questions that had haunted him for a dozen years. The Remus he, Lily and James had wondered about, suddenly secretive and distant, had been hiding a painful secret that had nothing to do with turning to the wrong side. Knowing Remus the way that he did – he had – he supposed the guilt of bringing a child into the world to face the same affliction he struggled with all his life, and the fear of being punished for it, would have caused their mate to change so drastically, leading them to suspect him of the unimaginable.

What puzzled Sirius, however (besides the realization that Remus had felt like he couldn't confide in his mates), was the other half from which this child was borne. He couldn't see past the striking resemblance his mate's daughter held to his mother, Sylvia Lupin, who Sirius remembered had been a stunning woman, even at middle age; tall and thin, with the refined features, a small nose and hazel eyes that reminded him of the golden orbs his uncle Alphard used to decorate his mansion with every Christmas when Sirius was a child._Who was her mother?_ he wondered, his eyes fixed on the peaceful face below.

And then, all at once, like a strong, cutting wave rushing over him, it hit him.

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"What did you tell him?"

Sirius whipped around, startled by the venomous voice suddenly behind him. It was well after curfew, and Sirius, having just returned to the castle after a midnight stroll through the secret passage to Hogsmeade in search of some firewhiskey for his heartbroken mate, found himself face – to – face with Eris Sloane. Alone.

"How did you find me?" he whispered. He didn't want Filch to catch him out of bounds again. The last detention he'd had with the caretaker had been brutal.

"What did you tell him?" she repeated, obviously upset.

"I've no idea what you're on about, Sloane," he began, though he knew exactly what she meant, "and I don't fancy being caught after curfew talking to _you_, so if you don't mind…" He turned to leave but she grabbed his shoulder and pulled it back.

He turned once again, brushing her hand off his shoulder with a dismissive, arrogant gesture and giving her a dark look.

"Remus broke up with me, and I know you had something to do with it!" she hissed, struggling to keep her voice down.

He wondered what Remus had said to her. "Maybe he just got bored with you," he said haughtily.

He saw her face twist into an ugly look. "He _didn't_," she said through gritted teeth.

"_Maybe_," he said lightly, "he _did_."

"You hate me."

"Very perceptive."

"You would do anything to break us up."

"Not really."

"Liar."

"Hypocrite."

"FUCK YOU."

"Get in line."

"What's going on here?"

It was Lily, holding her wand aloft, and looking at them curiously. Part of her prefect duties, she could be found patrolling the halls once a week, usually with Remus, who was a prefect as well.

_I wonder where he is, _he thought, secretly glad he wasn't the one to happen on the scene. "This girl here," he answered, gesturing to Eris, who was now silently crying, "thinks _I _made Remus break up with her." He didn't know what else to do but tell her the truth – at least part of it.

She walked over to Eris and patted her on the back in comfort, which Sirius took as a bad sign for him. "Did you?" she asked.

_Great_, he thought, _butt your nose in where it clearly doesn't' belong_, though he didn't voice it. "No," he said, trying not to sound defensive.

The look on Lily's face told him immediately she didn't believe him. He wondered briefly if Remus, who was friends with the object of James' affection, had confided in her.

"He's lying, he hates me," Eris sniffled, tears flowing fast and free.

_Yeah, _he thought bitterly, _and with good reason_. He fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Lily seemed to deliberate on what to do, her green eyes shining in the dimly lit corridor as she continued to pat the crying girl's back. "Well, this isn't the time or place to have this out," she said gently.

Sirius tried not to grin. However compassionate, Lily was always sensible first and it was working in his favour.

She cast him a disapproving look, then convinced Eris to let her escort the Ravenclaw back to her room, warning him that if she caught him out of bounds again that night, she would report him to McGonagall. He knew she was being serious and headed towards the portrait of the Fat Lady. Smirking to himself for his good luck, he smacked right into Remus as he turned the corner. "Ow!" he exclaimed, and then caught the look on his mate's face. It told him that Remus had witnessed the whole thing.

"What was that?" he asked, looking pale.

"Well, you saw the whole thing, didn't you," Sirius said dismissively.

"Yes, I did," he answered coldly. Sirius knew what he was thinking. Eris was acting the wronged girl. Only he and James knew it was because she actually was – on this matter anyway. "I bet she knew you were there," he blurted, which only made Remus look at him suspiciously.

"That's why she called you a liar?"

"Obviously," he retorted, then added quickly, "Look, mate, I know it's difficult at first but you'll get over her." He had tried to sound comforting but only came off sounding impatient.

"And you would know because…" trailed Remus, still cold.

This wasn't a good sign. Remus doubted him.

"Well," he started, unsure what he was going to say, "I don't actually know what it's like to have a girl step on your heart… but did I ever tell you about the time – "

"Stop."

_Oh, fuck. _"Alright."

"Tell me the truth."

He knew it was inevitable.

"Fine," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, "but not here."

* * *

I hope the jumping back and forth through time is not confusing to readers...it makes sense to me, but I wrote it, so...if you're wondering, the line about the scars being _'pink ribbons'_ was taken from the song...I will reveal why Sirius didn't like Eris in an upcoming chapter, not to worry...

Let me know what you think, I'd love to hear from you (not begging yet)...

**Coming Soon:** Chapter 4 - not sure about the title (in between songs) - which finds Remus worried for his daughter, Sirius Black and the full moon, while memories flood his fragile mind...

Bye!


	4. Chapter 4

**Finally!**

I've had this written for days but couldn't upload to document manager -- it wouldn't let me! Anyhoo, this is not exactly sticking to the preview from the last chapter but...

I couldn't really find a song to fit this chapter. It was going to be the next chapter but I felt I had to develop the story further to take it where I want to go, and I don't want to fit a song for the hell of it! If you have any suggestions after reading the chapter I'd love to hear from you, I may even use it!

**Disclaimer:** Only a fan. Own nothing. Not making any claims. Just having fun.

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Chapter 4 **

Remus sat in his favourite chair by the fire, tapping a foot nervously against the floor and staring at the clock on the wall as the second hand ticked over the twelve and the minute hand shifted firmly to the same number.

_There_, he thought, jumping up, _now she's officially late_.

He bounded, wincing, towards the front door, hastily stuffing his wand in his pocket and shoving his feet into his old leather shoes, when the front door swung open and he stopped in his tracks. Sophie stood at the threshold, her long hair wet and limp, soaking the shoulders of her tee shirt, a sheepish look on her face.

"Before you go off," she began, "I'm sorry, I know I'm late – "

"Good to know," he said, sounding angry, though, in truth, he was relieved to see her.

"I went for a swim – "

" – I gathered as much – "

" – And a long walk, beforehand – "

" – Of course – "

" – And I lost track of time."

" – Never noticed."

She looked down at his feet, only one shoe completely on, and looked up at him once more. "You were worried," she said, stating the obvious.

"Not at all," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, as he slipped off his shoes and walked round the settee, "why would I be worried when my teenage daughter fails to show up in time for lunch, when she'd promised me she was only going for a quick stroll to visit her pets at Sir Higginbottom's hours and hours before – "

" – Dad – "

" – And then turns up near dusk, dripping wet, when she _knows_ it's much too dangerous be out alone in the day, let alone for a swim – "

" – Dad – "

" – On the day of a full moon, to top it all – "

"DAD!"

He ceased. "Is there something you'd like to say?" he asked, trying to control his anger at her thoughtlessness as the ache in his joints began to sting.

"Dad, I'm sorry," she said, sounding genuine, "I won't do it again." She looked genuine as well.

He considered her for a moment, trying to think through the growing pain. "I would appreciate it if you didn't," was all he could muster.

Her brows furrowed as she noticed his obvious discomfort. "Have you eaten?" she asked.

"No," he responded, setting himself down on the old sofa, "but there's some soup on the stove for you." He cringed as the nausea began to rush back in waves at the mention of food. Sophie noticed and went over to him, spread a small lilac blanket (which she'd knit him for his birthday when she was twelve) over his legs and gave him a gentle hug.

"I'll get things ready tonight," she said, and he was surprised she didn't put up a fight to be allowed to transform in the woods (as he'd expressly forbidden her to do so all summer).

She disappeared from the room. As he sat on the sofa, every breath beginning to cause him more and more discomfort, he heard the distinct sound of the cupboard doors banging and the chinking of tableware as she moved around in the kitchen. He closed his eyes as his joints throbbed, pulling the misshapen bundle of yarn up to his chest, and recalling his 29th birthday, when she'd given him the blanket, the look of pride on her face bringing a smile to his lips.

Memories of his daughter, even the saddest ones, always made the full moon night more bearable for Remus.

The first night Sophie arrived at his home, at the tender age of four, she captured his heart. She was small, thin, and shy, her eyes round with fear and confusion as her mother kissed her goodbye and walked away. He recalled the panic and bewilderment that he felt at suddenly having a child – _his_ child – reflected in her hazel eyes as fat tears leaked out silently from the corners of her luminous orbs. He knew that was the moment, as he kneeled in front of her, wiped away her tears and lost himself in those eyes, and she asked him timidly if he was really her "daddy", that his old life ceased and his new life began. It was the moment that the sad, lonely, miserable Remus he had become was reborn.

He shuddered a little from the pain despite the comforting thought, when Sophie entered the sitting room once again. Her hair smelled faintly damp, the scent of woods and pond clinging to her light brown strands. He thought he smelled something else as she fussed over him, pulling him up and guiding him towards the cellar door, a distinct but faint underlying scent he couldn't place. Too preoccupied with trying to get down the cellar stairs without stumbling and dragging her down with him, he pushed all thought out of his mind. Now wasn't the time. He would be the werewolf in less than an hour and all the anxiety and questions that plagued him would become like a weapon for the wolf to hurt the man, and with all that he had been carrying around the past summer, especially his brief meeting with his traitorous mate, he knew he was in for a terrible night.

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Sophie leaned her father against the damp cellar wall, as she fumbled with the door to his side of the room.

"This would be a lot easier if I could use magic," she complained as her father, his breathing laboured, watched patiently.

"But what… would be… the fun… in… that?" he quipped, his humour intact despite not being quite himself.

_He's not usually this bad beforehand_, she thought with trepidation as she pushed the door open and helped her father to the patched up mattress in the corner of the room.

Her father had divided the cellar, originally one large room, into two smaller ones, separated by a reinforced wall and metal door that had been charmed for extra security. In each room a small window let in light and a mattress lay underneath, illuminated by the night sky. Afraid that the werewolf inside him would try and hurt the younger lycan, he devised a plan with his daughter that involved him locking each in their own room, stashing his wand and a dose of strengthening potion in a hole high up on the stone wall so that he could get them out and up to the main part of the house after every full moon. The plan relied on her father being able to muster the energy to tend to his daughter's and his own injuries every month and it worked well for seven years, until, after a particularly bad month where he lost three jobs in a row and had barely enough gold to feed them, the werewolf punished the man too severely for him to even wake for two days. Sophie, almost eleven, was able to summon his wand and the potion (which she knew was against the rules but knew how to do since she had seen him do it many times), and managed to drag her father up the cellar stairs to the sitting room, where she watched over him, unable to do much else. (It was after that experience that her father taught her the charms and spells necessary to care for them both.)

She set her father gingerly on the mattress and helped him loosen his shirt, then left the room, her father locking the door behind her with a silent charm as she stowed his wand on her side of the cellar, removed her still – damp clothes and folded them neatly into an old metal dresser with the edges dulled that was chained to the wall.

"Are you set?" she heard her father croak from the other side of the door a few minutes later.

"Yes," she answered, her knees beginning to shake. "And you?"

"Just waiting for the moonbeams," he said with forced levity.

Sophie was grateful for his careful planning because over the years she had witnessed her father turn in the past. The first time she saw it, at the age of nine, she had been unnerved by the experience, even though she followed only moments later. The look in his eyes, that of a caring, loving man to that of a vicious, salivating creature whose stare seemed to challenge her, mock her, told her the experience was different for him. He seemed to lose himself in the werewolf completely, while Sophie was aware of everything.

As a child, when the transformation would take place, she would remember her day – what she'd done, how she'd felt – but the details she never noticed in the moment would pop out glaringly at her when she was the wolf, like the way the girl who had teased her about her shabby trainers had a stink of fear about her, or how the letters and words on the blackboard in muggle school seemed to click into place in her head with audible precision, the answer to some question forming quickly in her mind.

As a young child, she found it overbearing, her senses overloading her young mind, making the werewolf lash out at her own skin. It wasn't uncommon in the early days for Sophie to wake up three days after a night of the full moon, her father's anxious face hovering over her and her body aching from brutal self – punishment. As she got older, transformations became more bearable and as she hit her teens, she found she looked forward to that time of the month (as opposed to the other) when things she'd experienced – from the way a classmate spoke to her to the way she had dealt with a professor – came to her in a new light. She felt powerful, confident, and free. It was an intoxicating feeling but she knew enough to keep it to herself. The way her father struggled every full moon, she knew it wasn't the same for him. To him it was a burden, a curse he was doomed to carry to his death, but to her, there was no separation. The werewolf was simply a part of her: the werewolf was Sophie and Sophie was the werewolf.

She'd come to the conclusion only two years prior, in her third year at Hogwarts, after a particularly thrilling night as the wolf, in which she explored parts of the Forbidden Forest few people had ever seen. It had been incredible, coming face to face with other creatures, dark and light, as they moved in their habitat, some allowing the strange creature with the distinct human smell to pass with little trouble, others challenging the werewolf to defend her life to prove she belonged. That night, she drank from the lake alongside a unicorn, ran with a herd of centaurs and barely escaped a family of acromantulas. She'd crawled back through the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack just before dawn, bleeding from the giant arachnid pinchers but feeling so alive, so right. It was then, as she returned to her human form, that she realized she could never be like the other students who slept in their cozy beds while she prowled the forest. She couldn't even be like her father, who soldiered through every month like a man going to battle. She could only be herself – the daughter of a pureblood witch and the daughter of a werewolf.

Lost in thought, Sophie felt the moonlight before she saw it. A pained moan cut through the air as her knees buckled under her and she hit the dirt floor. It took her a second to realize the sound wasn't coming from her. She struggled quietly, anxious to hear her father as he began to turn, his moans turning to screams. _Oh, no, daddy_, she thought, feeling guilty, as he growled in pain, but soon she was screaming as well, the feeling of bone and muscle ripping apart causing her to thrash about and before she even realized it, she was the wolf.

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Remus writhed on the mattress as sound escaped his lips without his consent and his mind was flooded with sounds and smells and sights crashing together, creating a cacophony noise for his senses. He felt his ribs crack as his chest expanded and the human sound of his voice turned to a guttural canine growl. He scent of the woods filled his nostrils, mixing with the scent of his daughter in the next room, so strong and vile he wanted to retch as his bones cracked loudly and thick fur sprouted from every follicle, his skin stretching and morphing over his newly formed body, not a man but a werewolf, and as he was aware of the last vestiges of human thought trickling away, the underlying scent filled his nostrils and he knew. It was him. It was Padfoot.

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A bit of a cliffie... So, what did you think? It would be nice to know... (starting to beg for reviews)

I am trying like crazy NOT to write her as a Mary Sue...I don't think she is... I loathe nice...

The next chapter will not jump so far back and forth in time, but will deal with what happened the day at the pond and what it means for our saucy little Lupin & daddy, aka Moony, aka,... you get the idea...


	5. Chapter 5: Yesterday

This chapter is named after the Beatles song of the same name. The action jumps back and forth from one day to the next (hence the title). Hope it's not too confusing!

R & R (I know you're reading, so why not?)

**Disclaimer:** The Potterverse belongs to JK Rowling. No harm intended in borrowing. Just having fun.

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Chapter 5: Yesterday**

"_Where do you think she keeps it?"_

"_What?"_

"_That – that 'thing'."_

"_You mean her daughter?"_

_"If that's what you want to call it…"_

Sophie woke with a start, the sound of birds outside the window jolting her out of her dream. She blinked, the images which were so vivid only moments ago dissipating with every open and close of her eyelids. It was a dream she had often – two faceless people, her maternal grandparents. Though she'd never met them, they often made an appearance in her dreams as the voices of contempt and loathing, usually around the full moon.

The room came into focus and she remembered it was the morning after. She stirred, and was immediately greeted by an ache that seemed to encompass her whole body. She bit her bottom lip and sat up slowly on the mattress, the fog in her mind lifting as she noticed the pattern of sunlight streaming in through the window. She stared at the odd strips of light as she cracked her back in a sudden, twisting movement, and lifted and stretched her arms cautiously when it suddenly hit her. The sun was streaming in from entirely the wrong side of the room for morning. It had to be late afternoon, at least. Wondering why her father hadn't woken her or moved her upstairs, she stood up and went to the metal door.

"Dad?" she said tentatively.

There was no answer.

"Dad?" she said again, her voice hoarse. Still, there was no answer.

She knew something was wrong. Panic seizing her, she scrambled to reach his wand just above the door and quickly opened the door that separated the rooms. She immediately stepped in something wet as she crossed the threshold and looked down at a trail of blood. She felt a jolt like an electric eel in the pit of her stomach as she realized what it was and spying him a moment later, facedown on the floor in the opposite corner, she ran to him.

"Daddy!" she cried, as she kneeled in a pool of blood. She pushed his hair from his face and took in his pallid skin and colourless lips. She leaned close to his face and felt his faint breath tickle her ear. Only slightly relieved, she began to search his naked body for the source of the blood. She didn't have to search very long. On his neck, a large gash crusted with bits of blood was still wet and oozing, very close to an artery. The panic seized her once more. As tears began to run down her face, she shook him gingerly, repeating his name. He stirred, mumbled something incoherent but didn't open his eyes, then became still once again.

_Don't do this to me_, she thought desperately.

She didn't know what to do. The gash on his neck looked deep and though she could knit the wound shut, he had already lost so much blood. Without a second thought, she touched the wand to the wound and said a spell aloud, concentrating with all her might on sealing the skin together. A long thin strand of light snaked out from the tip of her father's wand and wound itself around the gash, through the skin and out, sealing the wound like a needle and thread. Bleeding no more, she proceeded to clean him and the pool of blood up with another spell then flicked his wand and summoned the sheet from the mattress, which she lay over him gingerly, her hands shaking as she covered his ravaged body. He looked almost peaceful as he lay there, but she knew it wasn't a restful sleep. He had lost too much blood and he was weak and unconscious.

Instantly, she knew what she had to do.

* * *

Sirius watched as the teenaged daughter of Remus Lupin and Eris Sloane waded in the pond below. She was graceful, her long limbs pushing through the water with ease, while her long hair, honey brown and slightly wavy just like her father's, darkened in the water, giving her a striking resemblance to Eris. _So that's why she disappeared_, he thought, recalling the rumours he'd heard after graduation about how his mate's ex – girlfriend had moved away and renounced her magical bloodline.

Things came together in his mind with difficulty as he struggled to recall dates. He'd never really been good at keeping track of things, preferring to rely on his mates to remind him of the important things but now he didn't have that luxury, and after twelve years spent trying to forget so the Dementors couldn't feed off of his misery and regret, he found it almost impossible to find the information he wanted in his reminiscent – deprived mind.

He struggled to recall Remus, sad and heart – broken in sixth year just before his birthday, his mood suddenly changing a few days later. Back then, Peter had guessed their mate had been with a girl, because he seemed almost giddy at times, but no matter how much he and James tried to pry it out of him, he never acknowledged Peter's suspicions. If that girl had been Eris then it would have made sense that Remus didn't want to share. Sirius wouldn't have approved if he'd known, and he was almost sure James wouldn't have either. Only Peter, (_the treacherous rat_, he thought bitterly) would have been impressed because he was the only one of the foursome who didn't know about Eris' family (_and if he had_, he thought scathingly, _he probably wouldn't have cared_). He and James never confided what they knew. It occurred to Sirius, as he watched the girl without really seeing her that even back then they felt they couldn't trust Peter completely. _We should have known_, he thought sadly. _I should have known_.

A sudden sound of cracking branches brought Sirius out of his reverie. Still in canine form, his senses were sharp and he immediately turned towards the source of the noise. He noticed Sophie, who'd been wading lazily a moment before, looking towards the direction of the noise as well, her stance, even in the water, rigid and alert.

He sensed their presence before he saw them: four muggle boys, trying and failing to sneak up to the pond for a better look at its lone occupant. It suddenly occurred to him that Remus' daughter was in a tricky position. She was too far away from the edge of the pond to swim back in time to retrieve her clothes and dress before the boys emerged from the trees and if she tried, she risked them seeing her in her knickers, scars and all.

Before they had a chance to get any closer, the large black dog bounded down the rock face and leaped into the pond. His heavy furry body hit the water and he sank momentarily before his instincts kicked in and he pushed to the surface. He barely noticed the girl, still in the water, as he paddled furiously towards the edge of the pond where Sophie's clothes lay neatly on a rock and where the boys had stopped in their tracks, shocked by the sudden presence of a large black bear of a dog advancing on them. He scrambled out of the water and ran, growling and barking furiously at the boys. He saw looks of terror on their faces and two immediately ran, while another stood petrified and yet another picked up her clothes and a rock and threw it at him. Padfoot yelped as the rock hit him between the eyes, the sudden shock causing him to leap backwards but making him angrier than ever. As he resumed his assault on the boys, baring his teeth, the remaining boys turned and ran and he heard Remus' daughter yell, "Stop!" and felt a hand tugging at his scruff a moment later.

"No!" she said firmly as he rounded on her instinctively.

He closed his gaping mouth and backed away, determined to show her he would not hurt her. Dripping wet, she backed away to the edge of the pond, fear in her eyes. Padfoot sat down, lowered his head and whimpered, the only way he knew how to communicate that he was harmless. She looked at him for a moment, the fear in her eyes slowly dissipating, then inched forward, holding out her fist.

"Good dog," she said, as she reached out and patted his head. He made a sound to convey his appreciation and she seemed to relax.

"Good dog."

* * *

Sophie's body screamed in agony as she pelted down the main road towards Sir Higginbottoms' farm. The old man was the only wizard they knew for miles and the only one who even had a chance of having what she needed. Tearing towards his farm, she repeated five words desperately in her head over and over again: _Please don't let him die_.

As she reached the lane that led to his house, a searing pain in her chest forced her to stop. Breathless, she struggled to fill her lungs with air, desperate to get the potion and get back to her father in time. Pain barely subsided and breath in her lungs, she resumed towards his front porch and stumbling on the front steps, was banging on his front door a few minutes later.

"Sophie, my dear, whatever is the matter?" Sir Higginbottom asked concernedly when he opened the door.

"I need – a blood – replen – ishing – potion," she wheezed, " it's for – my – dad."

The old wizard looked at her shrewdly. "Whatever for, dear girl?" he asked.

She knew this wouldn't be easy.

"He's hurt," she said, struggling to put on a calm façade, "and he… he asked me to get it." She looked at him as he seemed to be considering the situation but before he could ask another question, she went on. "He was trying to fix a cabinet at home… and accidentally cut his hand. St. Mungo's is too far and he was able to heal himself… but he figures he needs the potion – just in case."

"It's not something you take unless you really _need_ it, my dear," said Sir Higginbottom in a condescending but polite manner, "perhaps I should take a look at him."

He made to gather his cloak, but Sophie, knowing that if he saw her father in his post – transformed state he would quickly figure out they were werewolves, couldn't let that happen. Thinking quickly, she moved further into the house.

"Where's the potion – I'll get it," she said and he pointed her towards pantry. She walked swiftly to the kitchen, and looking over her shoulder, she pulled open the door, scanned a full shelf and grabbed two potion bottles, then joined the old man in the foyer.

"I got it," she smiled, handing him the bottle.

He looked down at the label and frowned. "Wrong potion, girl," he said impatiently and sidled past her towards the kitchen.

His back to her, she slipped her father's wand from her pocket, and pointed it at the old man's back. _Impedimenta_, she thought clearly and a burst of silvery light shot out from the tip and hit him squarely in the back. He made a grunting sort of noise and turned, looking stunned, before he fell to the floor in a heap. The panic that she had been suppressing welled up inside her as the realization of what she'd just done hit her but she pushed it from her mind. Without looking back, she bolted from the house, the blood – replenishing potion safely tucked into the waist of her jeans.

* * *

Sophie sat by the edge of the pond, the late afternoon sun beating down on her face. She loved the smell of the trees, the sound of the animals unseen in the woods, the smell of the water. It was so peaceful, serene. The only thing that weighed on her mind was the large black dog lying beside her.

It had rescued her, chasing away the local boys and keeping them from discovering her secret. It had retrieved her clothes afterwards, strewn along the path the boys had taken in their hasty retreat. Whatever cruel prank they had planned had been foiled by the dog. It was clearly friendly towards her but she knew, in the back of her mind, that she shouldn't be so relaxed and trusting of this animal because it wasn't an animal at all. _But who is it?_ she thought as she stretched her legs and casually looked over at the enormous beast.

It was obviously someone who wasn't willing to reveal themselves to her, but someone her father knew. It was also someone her father didn't want near her, yet, it couldn't be someone dangerous, or else her father would have warned her. _Wouldn't he?_

"You want to go for a walk, dog?" she asked, trying not to reveal that she knew it wasn't just a dog but unsure of just how to do that.

The black dog raised its head and looked at her expectantly. She stood up, bits of grass and dirt sticking to her damp jeans, and wiping them off, she turned to see the dog almost seeming to smile. It was odd, and gave her a chill. _Who are you?_ she thought, looking into the dog's eerie grey eyes. A sudden thought occurred to her and she looked away. _No, it couldn't be_, she said to herself, trying to suppress the feelings that were beginning to overcome her. _Could it?_

She walked along the path leisurely, the dog trotting beside her. Every once in a while, it would spy a squirrel or bird and give chase, looking back at her as if to check her reaction. She forced a laugh each time, trying to keep her thoughts from showing through but with each moment that passed, the thought that had occurred to her by the pond kept growing, encompassing her mind until there was room for no other: _Is this my mother?_

She longed to confront the animagus but felt ridiculous. Afraid. She didn't know who would be standing in front of her if she forced the issue, but more than that, she wasn't sure she _really_ wanted to know. Her mother had abandoned her years earlier and Sophie had felt the sting of that action ever since. Besides, she had no idea how she would go about doing it. It wasn't as if she could use any magic. To do so would risk the Ministry coming after her. And she couldn't just ask the enormous black beast, which at the moment was behaving very much like a dog, to reveal itself. She doubted the person, whoever it was, would do it if they hadn't already. No, whoever this was, they were not willing to show themselves. Sophie would have to be content with their company in their present form.

Noticing for the first time that they were out of the woods and in a large field, she looked around and picked up a long branch and threw it as hard as she could. The dog immediately bounded after it, and trotted back moments later with the same branch clasped in its enormous yellow teeth. She rewarded the dog with a scratch on the ears, which it seemed to enjoy then threw the branch once again. Taking pleasure in the thought that an actual person would loathe to play this game, she threw the branch over and over, laughing at the canine's half – hearted efforts. _Bet you wish you'd revealed yourself now_, she thought as she threw the branch yet again. As the dog trotted back to her with the branch, now chewed in the middle and wet with saliva, she noticed the colour of the sky.

"Oh, no!" she exclaimed aloud.

In her quest to torture the stranger, she'd forgotten the time. Her father was surely waiting at home, worried sick and probably already feeling the effects of the impending full moon. Sophie quickly turned, calling to the dog that she had to go home (and feeling silly doing it), then headed back towards the lane to her house. The dog followed her for a while, and then disappeared into the woods.

_I just hope dad isn't too upset_, she thought as she ran the rest of the way home.

* * *

Sirius watched from the end of the lane as Remus' daughter ran across the path. He'd been watching her, had spied her leaving the tiny cottage twenty minutes earlier. He'd waiting among the bushes in case Remus came out next but when he didn't he'd ambled down the path to look for the girl but she was gone. Wondering where she could have run off to so quickly (and how she had the energy to do so the day after a full moon), he resumed his hiding place and waited patiently.

The night before, he'd watched his old mate and his daughter from the window to their sitting room as they locked the doors and slipped out of sight, then spied them in the basement through a tiny window at the back of the house. He'd been torn when he realized they were settling into the basement for their transformation. On the one hand, he'd been looking forward to meeting the young wolf in the woods, curious to see her in that state. _Would she be like Moony? _He wondered.A part of him was eager to run with the wolf like he had so many years ago with her father but he knew there was a good chance she wouldn't be alone. He dreaded meeting Moony in the woods; especially after the greeting he gave him that night in their back garden. He knew the wolf wouldn't hesitate to make its animosity towards Padfoot known. It was possible Moony would even try to kill him.

As she rounded on the lane a while later, he noticed the scent of panic and fear coming off her. _Was that there before? _he wondered,just as she tripped and hit the ground with a hard thud. He heard a pained groan escape her lips as she tried to pick herself up and failed, her arms shaking as she tried in vain to push herself upright. A cry of frustration escaped her and he saw tears streaming down her cheeks. A pang of sympathy came over him and he rushed from the bushes and went to her. She lifted her face from the ground and pained eyes met his. "Help me," she whispered hoarsely, her voice strained with panic.

Sensing the real desperation coming off her for the first time, he transformed back to his human form, his tattered greying robes hanging off him more loosely than when he'd escaped. It was a testament to how little he had eaten in the past few weeks, and for a moment, he hesitated, distracted by his own wasted state but snapped out of it quickly and picked the girl up off the ground. Her eyes closed, she stirred a little, and he carried her the rest of the way to the cottage, fear gripping him at the thought of what Remus would do once he saw him.

* * *

It's another cliffie...I know, I hate them too...

The next chapter changes month, season and setting, somewhere more familiar...

Chapter 6 up soon!


	6. Chapter 6: Blood on Our Hands

Hello again!

Ohmygod, reviews! (Giggles and jumps for joy) Thanks to all who've taken the time to review. It means alot.

This chapter takes its title by the very rockin' _Death from Above 1979_ (RIP) song of the same name. I think it fits, not just literally...

R & R!

**Disclaimer:** Ditto.

* * *

**Chapter Six:** Blood on Our Hands 

Sirius pushed the front door of the Lupin cottage open with his foot, the long limbs of the girl in his arms catching in the doorway as he struggled to carry her in as quietly as he could. The sitting room, just off the front door, was empty, and straining to hear any noise from the kitchen on the other side of the room, he concluded that his old mate wasn't on the main floor. Feeling only a little relieved, he padded softly to the old settee, which he recognized from the his last visit to the house over twelve years ago, and placed her gently on the tattered cushions. He pulled his arms out from under her, looked up instinctively towards the ceiling, and strained to hear any creak of floorboards that would tell him which room Remus was in. He heard nothing. _Where is he?_ he wondered.

The young girl stirred, mumbled incoherently then settled. He looked at her, noticing the fresh red welts on her arms; the unmistakable mark of claws – her own. _At least she didn't break any skin_, he thought as he advanced cautiously. Looking her over, he spied the top of a potion bottle, tightly corked, sticking out from the waist of her jeans. He bent closer and carefully slipped the bottle from its hiding place and examined it in his large, dirty hands. A small white label pasted to the side of the green glass bore a name, _S. R. Higginbottom_. Just above the name, in only slightly larger letters were the words, _blood – replenishing_. Sirius, his mind working quickly, instinctively looked towards the cellar door, which he noticed, for the first time, was ajar. Suddenly understanding the situation, he bolted towards the door and tore down the stairs, entering the darkened cellar, where he saw Remus, unconscious, on the cement floor.

"Moony," he whispered in horror as he stepped closer.

He stared for a moment, his mind racing as his eyes soaked in the sight of his old mate, bleeding and still, and suddenly sprung into action. Within minutes, he'd Accio'd Remus' wand from the pocket of his daughter's jeans and had sealed every wound on his body with a spell, then magicked him up to his bedroom, where he administered a series of complicated spells, including one to revive him just enough to administer the potion his daughter had procured (but not enough to make him conscious of who was administering it).

It amazed him that after all these years he still remembered what to do. As Remus' roommate for seven years at school, and a few afterwards (up until he was arrested), Sirius had learned how to heal out of necessity. Being the only one of his mates that didn't swoon or cringe at the sight of blood (being a disappointment to his parents, it flowed freely in his house), it had come to him to help Remus when he was too battered to make it out of the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack on his own. He quickly found he was gifted at it, and the resident healer at Hogwarts had even told him that he should consider it as a career option but Sirius, always looking for an adventure, was much too taken with the idea of becoming an Auror to give any serious thought to being a Healer.

When Sirius finished tending to his unconscious mate, he went back downstairs and turned his attention to the girl on the sofa. She, too, was still unconscious when he began to examine her for any major injuries with a spell he'd learned as a child. When he found that she was uninjured, he magicked her up to her bedroom, and tucked her into bed. He sat watching her for a long time, as she shuddered and whimpered, obviously plagued by the state she'd left her father in but too weak to open her eyes more than a few seconds. At one point, as Sirius watched her, he swore he saw recognition in her eyes, just like he'd seen the day before in the woods. But he knew it was impossible. There was no way that the girl had recognized him, he doubted she even knew he had once been her father's mate.

As darkness settled around them, Sirius, checking on his unwitting patients every half hour, lit the lamps around the house and made his way to the kitchen, where he helped himself to half a cold chicken, a bowl of soup warmed up with Moony's wand and half a bottle of flat butterbeer. Though hardly satisfying, it was the most delicious meal he'd had in years, and he savoured every bite, knowing that it would probably be a very long time until he had an opportunity to eat like that again.

Afterwards, he checked on Remus and Sophie one last time. Remus looked peaceful, younger as he slept, not at all like the prematurely aged man he'd become. Remus lying in weakened slumber reminded Sirius of late – night visits to the hospital wing when they were at Hogwarts. He and James (and Peter) would sit for hours by Remus' side, playing Exploding Snap (James would charm the cards to muffle the sound) and keeping him company while he slept. It surprised him how easily that memory had come to him, when he struggled to recall others, especially those related to his time with his mates. He found the memory churned up complex emotions he hadn't felt in a long time.

Sirius left his mate's bedroom, once his parents, and slipped into his daughter's room – the room _he'd_ once slept in, on a small cot that Remus' father had conjured up, along with James, the summer before seventh year. That memory, of talking for hours and telling stories, came to him from somewhere in the back of his mind and hit him with a force he hadn't expected. He stood at the threshold of Moony's old bedroom, overcome with emotion until the girl roused him from his melancholy reverie. She began to mumble once again, only this time Sirius could make out more than a few words.

"I didn't mean to do it… It's over… I've killed him… I've killed a man…"

The words jolted him. _What did she mean, 'she killed a man'?_ he asked himself as he walked over and sat at her bedside. She was still asleep. Perhaps she was only dreaming, but Sirius had to know what she meant.

"What did you do?" he whispered, bending low.

Her face twisted to a look of worry but she did not answer or wake.

"Sophie," he breathed, saying her name aloud for the first time, "what did you do?"

"…Stunned him… hit the floor…"

He was beginning to piece together what she was trying to say.

"Who did you stun?" he asked, although, with the empty potion bottle in his pocket, he thought he already knew the answer.

There was a moment of silence, then – "The old man… I've killed the old man…"

" Higginbottom?" he asked.

"…I didn't have a choice, please… please don't let them kill me…"

Sadness came over him at her words. Just like her father, she, too, had to live her life in fear of what she was and what others would do if they found out. Worried about what she'd done (and whether or not a team from the Department of Law Enforcement was about to swoop down on the tiny cottage) he decided he needed to help the girl one more time. Instinctively, he leaned over and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "Everything will be fine," he whispered, then slipped out of the room and out of the house, transforming back into Padfoot and setting off down the lane.

* * *

"_Do you wanna see it?" Peter asked excitedly, his hand at the hem of his white collared shirt._

_Remus watched as Peter, James and Lily stood in a white room, an ominous feeling coming over him. Peter, smiling, lifted his shirt, revealing a bloody, gaping wound at his side, oozing crimson, the bones beneath visible. Remus felt a sudden wave of nausea at the grotesque sight. He wanted to run but found he couldn't move._

"_Remus did that?" Lily asked, horrorstruck._

_Remus wanted to scream, "No!" but no sound came out when he opened his mouth._

_Peter, still smiling, his blue eyes dead, nodded slightly, but James answered for him. "Not Remus," he said, his voice sounding harsh and cruel, "Moony."_

_A look of disgust clouded Lily's pretty features, as she looked his way for the first time. "You animal!" she wailed, pulling out her wand and pointing it at him._

_Remus couldn't believe it! Lily was turning on him. He opened his mouth once again, but his protest stuck in his throat. Just then, Sirius appeared, looking youthful and vibrant._

"_No!" he said with force, "He's not an animal – " He twirled dramatically and appeared by Lily's side, an arm draped over her shoulder, his lips pressed to her ear, "he's a killer." _

_Lily stared at him, fear and loathing mingled on her face. "I knew we couldn't trust you!" she wailed, "Peter told us we couldn't trust you and look what you did to him!"_

_Remus looked down and realized his hands were covered in blood. He looked to Sirius, who stood smirking, his hands and robes bloody as well. He suddenly looked older; his waxy skin was grey, his hair long and matted. He looked like an animated skeleton. Shocked, he tore his eyes away from his mate and laid them on Peter, crumpled on the ground, a large chunk of his side missing, blood pooling around his lifeless body._

"_You did it!" James cried in an accusatory tone. _

"_No!" Remus wailed, finally finding his voice, "I didn't kill Peter! It was Sirius!"_

_James and Lily laughed cruelly, mocking him. "Did you hear that, honey?" Lily said between fits of laughter, "He's trying to pin it on your best mate!"_

"_Sirius would never do that," spat James, "he like my broth – "_

_Remus watched in horror as blood began to spurt from James mouth. Lily screamed in terror at the sight then suddenly emitted a low gurgling noise, and began to choke on her own blood._

"_Aren't you going to do something, Moony?" Sirius, hovering around him, asked in an amused tone. "Aren't you going to save them, killer?"_

_Remus couldn't move. The thought that two of his dearest friends were dying in front of him and he was useless to stop it played over and over in his mind, torturing him as he stood there. _

"_Don't do this, Sirius!" he pleaded, powerless._

"_Oh, it's not my doing," he said lightly, "It's hers." He pointed to the other side of the room, where a lithe figure stood, motionless._

_Remus realized at once who it was. "Leave her out of this!" he demanded._

"_Oh, but, Moony," he said silkily, suddenly standing nose to nose with him, "she's already in it." His breath was hot against Remus' cheek. "She's one of us. She's a killer, too."_

"_No!" cried Remus, his insides burning in anger, "I'm not a killer and neither is she!"_

_Sirius looked him in the eyes, his grey eyes sparkling with pure malevolence. "Give it time," he whispered, "Give it time."

* * *

_

"Sophie, wake up, we have to go."

Sophie was roused from a deep slumber by the sound of her father's voice. Forcing open her heavy lids, her father's face swam into focus above her. She immediately noticed that he looked weak and paler than usual, and then she remembered – the full moon, the potion, the dog; it all came back to her in a rush.

"Dad! Are you okay?" she blurted, bolting upright and startling him.

"I'm fine, Sophie," he lied, looking weary.

She didn't know what to say. She looked him over quickly, her eyes darting over his face, his neck, taking in the sight of red welts and fresh bandages.

"How did – " she began, but stopped abruptly. She realized the look he was giving her was the same way she felt – confused.

"Don't you remember that night?" he asked. The concern in his eyes mirrored his tone.

_That night?_ She thought. "What's today?" she asked.

"It's September first," he answered, touching her flushed face. "We've got to be on the train for Hogwarts in a few hours," – he ran the back of his hand over her cheeks and forehead – "But if you don't feel up to the trip, I can send word and we can travel next day."

"No," she said quickly, shaking her head and taking his hand, "I can go today." It felt clammy and shook a little in hers. "How about you?" she asked, concerned for his state but afraid of offending him.

"I told you," he answered, smiling, "I'm fine – thanks to you."

_To me?_ She quickly realized that someone had attended to them both. The blurry image of a dark mass of tangled hair suddenly came to her.

"I – " she began.

"You don't have to say anything," her father interrupted, "I feel terrible for putting you in that position again – " She tried to speak but he continued " – and I'm very proud of you." He smiled weakly.

"But I didn't do anything," she breathed, not sure how to feel. Her mind was a muddle of memories and questions and she needed to say it out loud. "I didn't heal you."

"What do you mean?" There was an edge of restrained panic to her father's voice.

"I tried to help," she began, not able to look him in the eye, "I only made things worse." The memory of Sir Higginbottom crumpled on the floor in his house rushed into her head. She jumped out of bed and ran to the window, as if expecting to see a waiting mob of Aurors, led by the old man, waiting for her. _Wait_, she thought, _did they even send Aurors for the likes of someone like her?_ The grounds below were quiet. Nothing stirred but a few birds chirping happily in the trees as rays of sunlight began to spread over the day.

"What happened, Sophie?" her father asked, tearing her away from her bedroom window.

Sophie turned and stood silent, going over the events she remembered in her mind. She knew she'd really mucked it up with the wizard but she had to tell him. She sat back down on the edge of her bed and everything she remembered poured out of her in a rush. She didn't dare look at her father as she spoke, afraid of seeing disappointment in his eyes. When she finished, they sat in silence.

"Well," he finally spoke, "that makes Sir Higginbottom's visit this morning rather curious."

Taken aback, she finally looked up. "He was here?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes," he answered, nodding a little, "he woke me up just before sunrise. Said he didn't want to miss us before we left for Hogwarts."

"What did he want?" she asked, not sure what to think.

Her father explained how the old man had said that he wanted to wish them well on their trip and had wanted to ensure Sophie her pets would be well taken care of. He also brought them a packed lunch for the train as a token of thanks for Sophie's help. Confused even further, her father went on to explain how the old wizard had been convinced that Sophie had saved him from being bitten by a big, black shaggy stray. Her father, looking, if possible, even paler as he said this, gave her a look that told her he knew she'd been in the animal's company. They sat in silence once more, Sophie piecing things together, her father already one step ahead.

"Who is it?" she finally asked, aware that the animagus – whoever it was – had saved her from the law by modifying the old man's memory.

"It's not your mother," he answered, his tone gentle and kind.

It irked her that he could read her so well.

"Then who?" she demanded, feeling at once disappointed and, if possible, more confused than ever.

"We haven't got time to dawdle," he said, standing abruptly. "We'll miss our train to London if we don't hurry." He waved his wand and her trunk slid across the room from the corner where she kept it. The lid flipped open expectantly. "Pack quickly," he said, and he left the room.

Sophie sat stunned. He'd never acted that way before. He was usually more forthcoming; answering even the difficult questions she threw his way. It wasn't like him to completely evade his daughter. She considered going after him, demanding he tell her everything but she realized that, at the moment, getting to Hogwarts (and away from there) was too important to her. She missed her mates, the grounds, everything about the place that had become her second home and she was afraid of staying at home any longer. She wasn't sure just how well Sir Higginbottom's memory had been modified, if he would remember what she'd done in a few days, a few weeks… No, it was better to leave at once, especially since someone else now knew her secret. She got up and packed, then showered and changed, before joining her father, already waiting at the front door. They left the house in silence, Sophie knowing that he wouldn't be able to evade her much longer. The train ride to London, though not very long, would be enough time to demand some answers.

**888888888888**

As they set off down the lane, their trunks having sprouted little wheels to make them easier to move, Remus knew the time for truth was coming. He had never wanted Sophie to know his connection to Sirius Black and the dark secret he kept for the murderer all these years. He never wanted his daughter to know his part in helping a killer run free, for he knew it was his fault that Sirius was on the loose, a threat not only to Harry Potter, but to the magical world at large. By keeping the secret that Sirius was an animagus, he secured the prisoner's continued freedom, allowing him to get closer to Harry, and to his goal. It sickened him to think he was making it easier for the man he once considered one of his closest friends to take more lives and perhaps even find his master, Lord Voldemort, and help him rise to power once more.

He couldn't even _consider_ telling the Ministry – or Dumbledore – the truth. He felt ashamed but he knew it was out of the question. His life would be over, but more than that, Sophie's life would be over as well. The only thing he could do – really had no choice but to do – was tell his daughter the truth.

He found as he resolved to tell her, and they neared the station (little more than a small brick building and a bench), that he feared her reaction more than any other. She would know, once and for all, what a coward he really was, but more than that, he feared she would never look at him the same way again. The love in her eyes, the innocence and joy, would be lost forever. This pained him more than anything but he knew it had to be done.

They settled into a small compartment just as the train began to pull out of the station. Sophie, quiet the whole way there, sat opposite him and stared out the window. He knew it was the time, but he didn't know how to start. Pushing away the dark thoughts and nightmares that had been plaguing him, he cleared his throat.

Sophie turned her head and looked at him expectantly. "So," she said in a soft tone, "Are you going to tell me?"

"Yes," he answered, "I'll tell you everything, but you won't like it."

"Why?"

"Because I myself am ashamed of what I've done, or rather, haven't."

She looked at him, confused, her face clouded by fear.

"Daddy," she said, her voice suddenly small, "I don't care what you've done, just tell me," she pleaded.

He knew at that moment, by the sound of her voice, by the look in her eyes, that he would never lose his daughter's love, just as she would never lose his. He'd always feared that people would leave him, and they had, but he knew with his daughter it was different. The bond between father and daughter, werewolf and cub, could never be broken. Emboldened by that realization, he began.

"The dog, the animagus who helped us, saved me from bleeding to death,... saved you from the Ministry coming after you – it was Sirius Black. My old _mate_ Sirius Black."

* * *

I'm not sure if that's a real cliffie or not. Depends on the next chapter... The part in the middle in _italics _was a dream - or rather, nightmare - sequence from Remus' mind, just in case I've confused my readers (it makes sense to me, but then I wrote it)... 

The next chapter brings back that hackneyed plot device, the FLASHBACK, as well as a glimpse into Sophie and her mates...

Will try to post soon!


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi!**

I have been trying to update more regularly but its been too hard, what with work, life, etc... Anyway, sorry to make you wait...

This chappie has no title but does have a flashback (which makes it a little longer) so...

No warnings except for smatterings of language here and there (not living up to it's M rating yet!)

R & R and enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Not my world, I just like to visit.

**

* * *

Chapter 7 **

Sirius watched in uncharacteristic silence as Remus paced the length of the fireplace, trudging upon the singed hearthrug as he went back and forth in resolute silence. It was late, almost three in the morning, and, while their fellow Gryffindors, including little Peter, slept soundly in their four – posters, Sirius, James and Remus were wide-awake. James sat on the edge of the plush crimson sofa, a worried look on his face. Having just told his mate the truth about his girlfriend Eris, Sirius sat with James, whom he'd summoned for support. Sirius felt anxiety tuck at his navel as he waited in anticipation for Remus to react, his heart the only sound – apart from the soft thump of Remus' shoes on the bit of carpeted floor and the crackling of the fire in the grate – he could hear in the deserted common room. 

"Remus?" he said uncertainly, after watching his friend pace a few minutes more. Remus came to a halt, his back to his mates.

James gave Sirius another worried look and spoke up. "Moony," he started, "are you okay?"

Remus stood in front of the fire, his hand on the mantle. Sirius noticed that his knuckles were white. "That's an interesting question, James," they heard him say. His low voice sounded forced, calm.

Sirius knew Remus was holding back. _Just like him_, he thought, getting rather annoyed. Impatience beginning to replace anxiety, he stood up and strode over to Remus, placing a hand on his shoulder. He felt his mate immediately stiffen. "Just let me have it, will you," he demanded as he pulled Remus around to face him, "just let it – " His voice died away when he saw Remus' amber eyes burning into his. Instinctively, he backed away.

"How can you be such a hypocrite?" Remus seethed, his voice still low and dangerous, "How can you stand there and judge her when you're just like her."

Sirius was stunned by his words. He was _nothing_ like Eris Sloane. Yes, they were both from prominent pureblood families with ties to the Dark Arts, but that's where the similarities ended. Whereas Sirius could see his family for what they were – fanatical, prejudice gits – Eris could not. She was the darling of her family, the apple of her parents' eye. The Blacks and the Sloanes being from the same social circle, Sirius had seen it with his own eyes years ago, witnessed the same '_pureblood – is – thicker – than – mudblood' _mentality his parents shared with hers. Though he barely remembered the girl, he could never forget what he'd overheard from his parents, at he age of ten, about the Sloane family and what they did to one of their own – or rather, what Eris did to her own brother.

"Listen, mates," James said, jumping up and trying to get between them, "maybe this isn't the best time for this." Sirius felt a hand on his elbow pulling him back. "Remus, you've just received a shock, you should let things sink in before – "

"Before what?" he growled, raising his voice. Both Sirius and James moved back even further. They could see the wolf in Remus' eyes. "Before I say something I regret?" He had an ugly look on his face, one neither boy had ever seen before. It was unnerving.

"I'm not the one who lied," he continued, his voice moving steadily higher, "I'm not the one who decided to play God with other people's lives!" He took a step toward Sirius. "What do you think gives _you_ the right to decide if Eris is right for _me_?"

"You didn't know the truth about her!" he shot back angrily, feeling hurt by his friend's lack of gratitude.

"You could have told me!" he yelled.

Sirius knew he was right but being angry and hurt, he would never admit it. "I was trying to protect you, you fucking idiot!" he snapped. He felt a tug on his arm and looked around. A handful of students, some glaring and others curious, had gathered on the steps to the dormitories to watch.

"Guys," James insisted, "this is not the place!" There was a note of panic in his voice that seemed to bring Remus to his senses. He blinked and looked around, noticing that they had an audience.

"You had no right," he whispered hoarsely. Sirius opened his mouth to retort, though he wasn't sure what to say, but James nudged him hard in the side. "Let's go upstairs," he urged softly.

Remus sighed resignedly and gave him a hard, piercing look. "Just leave me alone," he breathed, then pushed them both aside and left.

* * *

Sophie stood on queue waiting to board the Hogwarts Express, her mind going over and over their conversation. On the train to London, as she sat quietly and listened to her father as he told her the truth about the mysterious Animagus, Sophie had tried to push aside her shock and disappointment. Of all the possibilities, her father's explanation had been the one furthest from her mind. Indeed, she'd never have imagined her father once knew the notorious wizard let alone been as close to him as a brother. There was barely enough time to wrap her mind around the fact that a convicted murderer, the most dangerous man in the wizarding world, had saved both their lives, when she found herself pulling her trunk towards the barrier of Platform 9 ¾ and standing among her fellow students. The truth was Sophie had been expecting a very different explanation – one that would have made all those silly daydreams she'd had as a child seem like premonition.

"Sophie," her father said, rousing her from her thoughts, "someone's waving you over." She looked back towards the entrance to the platform and saw one of her roommates, Alicia Spinnet, beckoning.

"Go on," her father said, "I'll take care of your trunk."

She looked at him and hesitated. Even though she was feeling less than generous towards him at the moment, she still felt twinges of guilt and concern at leaving his side when he was still obviously in so much pain. "I'll find you on the train," she said.

"No," he answered, placing a hand on her shoulder as if to steady himself, "you sit with your mates, I won't be good company anyway." He gave her a reassuring smile and urged her towards the closest thing she had to a friend.

A few hours later, Sophie found herself in a compartment near the end of the train among a small group of her fellow fifth years (and a couple of seventh), pretending to listen while Fred and George Weasley recounted a prank they'd pulled on their older brother Percy over summer vacation.

"…And then he said – "

" – It must have been fertilizer!"

The compartment erupted into laughter and Sophie joined in half – heartedly, her mind finding its way back to the single thought in her head. _It wasn't her_.

For a tiny window of time that morning, Sophie had been sure the dog – the Animagus – had been her mother. For years, she had dreamed about her mother coming back to them, telling Sophie she'd made a mistake and asking forgiveness for abandoning her, and for a little while she had hope that the dream would become reality. That hope slipped away almost as quickly as it had settled into her heart.

Just that morning, she'd had a strong urge to see her mates, to laugh, to talk, to forget about the last few days, but now, the truth rattling around in her head, the disappointment firmly settled, she was keenly aware of just how different she was. While her mates chatted about summer trips with family and lazy days finding something to do, Sophie could only think about how she'd almost killed a man, how her own father had almost died, and how a convicted and escaped murderer had saved them both. She could only think about her parents and Sirius Black.

A deck of cards let off a stifled bang and a puff of smoke burst into the air, making Sophie jump. She winced as she felt a stab of pain in her ribcage. _Probably broken_, she mused. _Black missed that, I guess. Or did he?_

She looked around the compartment and wondered how they would react if _they_ knew the truth about _her_. _Probably_ _very badly_, she thought bitterly, watching as Lee Jordan played a game of Exploding Snap with Alicia, while the twins and two other Gryffindors, Oliver Wood (the Gryffindor quidditch team captain) and his girlfriend (and popular seventh year) Lauren Meadows, talked loudly over the frequent bangs. She touched her side gingerly, inwardly wincing at the tenderness when she noticed Fred stealing a glance at her. He looked away quickly when she caught his eye. Losing interest in the progress of the game, she continued to watch the small group surreptitiously. She always kept them at arms length, letting them know only so much about her without it seeming like she was holding anything back. It was a delicate balance, but one she managed for the last four years with the skill of someone who'd been duplicitous all her life. She didn't feel badly about lying to them (as far as she was concerned it was a matter of necessity to lie) but a part of her was only too aware that the walls she'd built up would always leave her feeling like an observer and not a participant. Little did she know she was now the one being observed.

"So, who was that old bloke Alicia saw you talking to?" Lee asked suddenly. It took her a moment to realize he was speaking to her.

"What old bloke?" Fred echoed with interest, breaking conversation with the others. Alicia gave her a quizzical look.

"That _old bloke _is the new DADA professor," she answered rather haughtily, annoyed by the fact that Lee Jordan had just referred to her father in such a way.

"No way!" Alicia exclaimed. "For a minute, I thought it was your father, but then I saw him board the train." Alicia had only seen her father from afar a few times over the years.

"He _is_ my father."

"No way!" Alicia exclaimed once again. Sophie stifled a chuckle at the girl's overenthusiastic reaction. Her roommate was always full of so much energy; Sophie wasn't surprised when she joined the Quidditch team in third year.

"Can he do that?" Lee asked, looking confused.

"What, mate," Fred jumped in, "be her father? You know something about Mr. Lupin the rest of us don't?" George snickered as their mate threw his twin a filthy look. Lee hated to be the butt of a joke.

"Apparently," she said, noticing the looks on their faces. "Dumbledore _did_ hire him, after all." She knew what they were thinking. It had been many years since they'd had a decent Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and she couldn't blame them for being skeptical of the next – even if it was her father.

"He any good?" Lee asked. Sophie had a feeling he would be the first of many.

"Of course," she said assuredly, "he taught me everything I know."

"Oh, we're in trouble then," offered George, smiling wickedly.

Sophie's relationship with the twins had started in first year when they pulled her seat out from under her with a flick of a wand in Herbology and sent her sprawling backwards into a table full of rare plants, all of which were ruined when they crashed to the floor. She was so embarrassed she grabbed a clump of soil and threw it across the room at them, hitting Professor Sprout squarely between the eyes. They spent a week in detention scrubbing the greenhouse floors by hand and got to know each other very well after that, though she never did find out which one of them actually knocked her on her arse.

"Shut it, you git," she threw back jokingly. Her mind was almost off her troubles.

"Speaking of gits," Fred piped in, gesturing towards the compartment door, "I think _that _one's looking for you."

Sophie turned to see Cedric Diggory, a fellow fifth year, Hufflepuff quidditch house team Seeker and prefect, standing in the corridor waving to her sheepishly. Her heart leapt a little at the sight of him. She looked at Alicia who gave her a wink and a nudge and noticed the filthy looks the others were throwing him. She opened the compartment door and shut it quickly, so he wouldn't hear the lip smacking noises the twins were making.

"Uh, hi," he said, fidgeting nervously.

Near the end of fourth year, after talking in Care of Magical Creatures on occasion, Cedric had asked her to join him on a trip to Hogsmeade. Taken aback by his invitation but flattered the popular (and handsome) Hufflepuff seemed to be interested in her, she accepted. It had been an uneventful trip; the only thing that happened was conversation, but she learned they had a lot in common, including birthdays near the beginning of the school year (his in September and hers a month later), a secret love of muggle music (preferably with loud guitars) and a strong desire to get top marks in every class. It seemed to be a match made in heaven, at least from her point of view, but when the school year ended she came to her senses. She couldn't afford to get too close to anyone.

"Hi." She could feel half a dozen pair of eyes boring into her back through the window and noticed a few others around them watching with interest as well.

"Sorry I didn't write over summer," he said quickly, "I was away at Quidditch camp."

She smiled, feeling a little less guilty at not writing him as well. "It's alright," she replied, "I was really busy, too." It was a lie but by her standards, it was nothing.

He glanced over her shoulder and furrowed his brows and she caught herself thinking how cute he looked like that. _Oh, Merlin, I am lame_, she thought in self – deprecation.

"I don't think you're mates like me much."

She glanced back to see Oliver, Lee, Fred and George all glaring at him.

"Just ignore them, they're all a bunch of gits obsessed over Quidditch," she said turning back to face him, "and you're the enemy as far as they're concerned." As far as she was concerned, he was dangerous to her as well.

"But not to you," he stated, though it almost sounded like a question.

"Course not." She smiled at the small look of relief that flit across his face, feeling elated at the realization that he was actually worried that she'd changed her mind about him, then realizing, despite her efforts to the contrary, she hadn't.

"Well," he said uncertainly, "I should get back to my mates… I'll see you around."

The smile dropped from her face, though she tried her best to mask it. "Oh, um, okay," she said, uncertain what to think. _Why did he come to see me?_ She asked herself, confused.

He turned to go and she did as well, grabbing the handle of the compartment door and trying to rearrange her features; she didn't want the others to see the disappointment on her face.

"Wait," she heard him say just behind her. She turned and found him squeezed closer to her as a crowd of people passed, his face just inches from hers. "When we get to the castle, can we, uh, share a carriage? Just the two of us?" She could almost hear his heart's rapid beating in his chest.

"Sure," she replied, trying not to sound too eager. _I can't believe I just said yes,_ she berated herself.

"Brilliant," he said his grey eyes darting over her face nervously. "Good." He leant closer and almost pressed his lips to hers, then turned and bolted down the corridor so quickly, she barely had time to register what he was about to do but hadn't. Feeling a flush rise in her cheeks as she noticed other students still watching, she turned just as quickly and fumbling with the handle, slid the door open and stepped into the compartment once more.

"You traitor!" Fred exclaimed accusingly.

"You tart!" chimed in George.

"Leave her alone," Alicia said, flicking a card at the twins. It hit George in the arm and exploded, causing him to wince and rub his arm. He glowered at Alicia but cracked a smile when she stuck out her tongue. (Sophie had a feeling he had a soft spot for her roommate).

"Is he your boyfriend, then?" Lauren asked. Sophie was a little surprised, not just by the question (she really didn't know the answer to _that_ one) but by the fact that Lauren was the one asking. She was more of an acquaintance than a friend and even Alicia or her other dorm mate Katie Bell, who probably knew her the best, knew not to ask her too many questions.

"I don't know," she mumbled, feeling her cheeks burning. She didn't like feeling so exposed.

"Well, boyfriend or not," George said, "You're consorting with the enemy." He looked completely serious as he said this.

"Never mind that," Fred joined in, causing his twin and Oliver to look at him with mild surprise (making it clear to Sophie that all the boys saw him that way), "you're dating a prat!"

The others laughed and Sophie made a lunge for him, but ended up punching George in the shoulder instead when his twin ducked.

"Oi!" he exclaimed, rubbing his shoulder, which only caused the rest of the compartment to break into another round of laughter.

Sophie threw herself back down beside Alicia, feeling happier than she had in weeks. Suddenly, things didn't seem so bad; her problems, her worries, seemed miles away.

She was busy daydreaming over Cedric a few hours later, while the others napped or stared out the rain – spattered window, when the train came to a sudden halt. Groans could be heard all around as students were pitched forward suddenly and the lights flickered then extinguished. They were in total darkness. Sophie could see fairly well in the dark (a lycan trait, she supposed), and she looked around as her mates stumbled blindly around, bumping into one another as they felt for the door.

"What the fuck!" Lee exclaimed as Oliver trampled on his foot.

Sophie stifled a laugh at the comical sight then suddenly felt the laugh die in her throat. The fine golden hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as a feeling crept over her, and she was suddenly aware that something not human was approaching. She sensed a deep rattling of breathe rather than heard it, coming from somewhere in the middle of the train and she knew whatever it was, it was dark and dangerous. Then she felt a tingle down her spine and she knew that it had sensed her, too.

"Don't open it!" she hissed as she watched Fred fumbling with the handle.

"Why not?" he asked turning towards the sound of her voice.

She could feel it coming nearer. "It's out there," she said, aware of the panic in her voice.

"What is?" Lauren asked, sounding just as frightened.

She could see a dozen orbs searching the dark fearfully, trying in vain to look at her. She closed her eyes and a shiver ran down her body, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She opened them again and saw the creature seeming to glide along the corridor past their compartment. It stopped and turned its hooded head slowly towards her and she couldn't help but gasp when she saw what was supposed to be its face.

"What's wrong? What is it?" Alicia asked, panicked.

Sophie knew at once that it was a Dementor but didn't answer. She could see a hand, skeleton – like and shining white in the dark, reaching out for the handle on the other side. Without thinking, she jumped up, pushed Fred out of the way and jammed the handle.

"Oof! Who did that?"

Her face pressed up to the glass, she looked into the scabbed – over eyes of the creature, which seemed to be staring at her with interest. Lauren began to sob and the creature turned its grotesque face towards the noise. She felt the handle move in her hand but she held on, her abnormal strength coming in very handy as she struggled to keep the door closed.

"Make it stop!" Lauren shrieked, her sobs growing louder and louder.

Sophie felt a low growl build in her stomach and move up into her throat. _Oh, no_, she thought, panicking as her lycan instincts took over, but try as she might, she couldn't stop it escaping her lips.

"What the fuck is _that_?!" Lee exclaimed, while Alicia joined in Lauren's chorus of sobs.

The creature froze and lifted its head, seemed to look into her eyes, which burnt amber, reflecting in the glass, and glided away.

A moment later, the lights flickered on, and Sophie, moving swiftly, stepped away from the door. She watched as her mates blinked in the dim light, trying to focus, the boys turning immediately to the two sobbing girls in comfort.

Fred, having obviously known it was her that pushed him aside, gave her a dark look of wonder but said nothing.

"What was that?" Lee asked, as he patted Alicia on the back.

All eyes turned to her.

"You don't want to know," she replied.

**888888888888**

Later that night, Sophie lay in her luxurious four – poster bed, staring at the night sky through the crack in her scarlet bed hangings, her mind unable to stop its incessant buzzing.

With the added drama of the Dementors on the train, the last 72 hours had been unlike any she'd ever experienced before and never wanted to again. She'd barely had time to speak to Cedric, let alone ride in the same carriage with him, and she'd had to endure stares from the other house tables as her father was introduced as the new DADA professor. At least the story filtering through the Great Hall about how he had chased the Dementors off the train and helped Harry Potter when he fainted, were positive. The only students who seemed to have a problem with him where the Slytherins, some of whom she overheard making fun of his old shabby cloak and sickly appearance. She'd tried not to let it bother her (it was _only_ the Slytherins, after all) but couldn't get it out of her head. Especially since she noticed the way their Head of House, her least favourite teacher, Professor Snape, had been glaring at him all through dinner. Like all the staff, he knew her father, like her, was a werewolf but the way he stared, with black, beady eyes burning with loathing, it was as if he had a personal grudge, not merely a general prejudice. Sophie wondered what was behind it and made a mental note to ask her father (though she was unsure he would _actually_ tell her).

While the memories of the day were freshest in her mind, they were by no means the only thoughts keeping her awake. The last few days had also brought up so many questions, only a handful of which she had an answer to. It was frustrating to know that her father was holding a secret that was the key to the capture of a dangerous criminal but couldn't reveal it. What bothered her more was that it had now become her secret, too. How was she supposed to sit back and stay quiet while Dementors patrolled the village and castle and Harry Potter – the Boy Who Lived – walked around like the weight of the world was on his shoulders? Because he knew – she was sure of it. She'd seen that look of desperation, stoic pride and some fear mingled on his face for a split second as they entered the Great Hall, telling her that he was aware that his life was in danger. It was the same look her own father wore when he finally confessed to knowing Sirius Black. But despite her misgivings about keeping the secret, she knew she would do it – not because Black knew her secret but because she could _never_ betray her father. Never. No matter what happened. Or what was about to.

* * *

Dum, dum dum!...

**Coming Soon** - Yes, there is more Sirius to come, especially OC/SB interaction, as well as the answer to the question, "What did Eris do to her brother that was so evil Sirius Black was offended?"

..."And why is Fred suddenly so interested in Sophie? Does he suspect? Well, does he?!"

...And just when you thought this story couldn't become more convoluted or confusing, another problem surfaces for Sophie...


	8. Chapter 8: Starlight

**Hi!**

I'm posting this really late/early depending on your point of view, but I am sleep -deprived so please excuse any mistakes... Not exactly in keeping with the preview from the last chapter but all that will still come...

This chapter includes a flashback, hope it's not confusing...title taken from Muse song of same...R & R... Enjoy...

**Warning:** Language, people, language.

**Disclaimer:** You know it by heart.

* * *

**Chapter 8:** Starlight 

_"Our hopes and expectations, Black holes and revelations...", **Starlight**_, Muse

Sirius sat under a large beech tree by the lake, his massive fur – covered body immersed in shadow. The star – strewn sky sparkled, reflecting off the water in a brilliant pattern, Orion seeming to loom overhead like an enormous, luminous creature waiting to pounce on the night. Ever since stepping foot on the grounds of Hogwarts two months ago, the memories that he'd thought had been lost forever had come flooding back to him, so that he could barely focus.

He remembered every lazy day spent on the grounds, under the very tree he sat under now, laughing, planning pranks, talking about everything (and nothing) and just hanging about with his mates. He remembered every girl he'd snogged under its heavy branches, bent low with the weight of green leaves, obscuring his trysts from curious eyes. He remembered everything and it was driving him mad.

**

* * *

**"Hey, Black, I need to speak to you." 

Sirius looked up from the copy of _Quidditch Quarterly_ spread out on the grass in front of him at the foot of a beech tree to Lily Evans' serious face.

"Lily!" James squeaked, hastily shoving the Snitch he'd been playing with into his robes' pocket. Sirius couldn't help but smirk as he screwed up his face in obvious pain, the Snitch probably digging into his thigh as it fluttered its solid gold wings.

Lily gave him an impatient look, as if to say, _I've no time for you right now_, and looked down at Sirius once more with sharp green eyes. "In private," she added.

Sirius saw the disappointment on his mate's face. It irked him that Lily had caused it. "What's this, Evans? Forget your manners?"

James gave him the familiar _Please don't start anything with the love – of – my – life_ look, pleading silently with him not to be rude. _Only for you, mate_, he shot back with the raise of a brow as he sat up straight and held his tongue. "I promised Peter I'd help him with Tranfiguration," James said, grabbing his rucksack and throwing it over his shoulder. "See you later, Sirius, Lily." He walked away towards the castle, a cool breeze ruffling his already messy hair.

"So," he demanded, shoving the magazine into his pack, "Speak."

Lily eyed him as if considering whether to say what was on her mind. "It's about Remus," she said solemnly.

"What about him?" he asked roughly. He didn't try to hide his hostility towards her. James wasn't there to witness it, after all.

"Is it true?" she began, "What you said about Eris?"

_So Moony told you_, he thought, annoyed. He knew that Remus and Lily had become closer since the beginning of the school year, sharing prefect duties, but wasn't aware that he was now confiding in her as well.

"He told you."

She nodded. "Well?" she demanded, cocking her head to the side. He noticed how whenever she was being confrontational – at least with him – she did that.

"It's true." He wondered why she thought she had the right to ask.

"Oh." She looked out over the lake, its surface broken by small rippling waves.

"That it?" he asked, moving to stand up and walk back to the castle.

"You realize he's willing to give her a chance, despite what you told him," she stated matter – of – fact.

He hadn't. "Don't tell me," he snapped, "_you_ think it's a good idea." He couldn't believe Remus would do it.

"On the contrary," she said snarkily, "I think she's dangerous."

Sirius was taken aback. He really didn't know what to say.

"Obviously, you think so, too," she added when he failed to respond.

"Why?" he asked, the question dawning on him suddenly. It wasn't like Lily to see his side of things – ever. In fact, they were so different they had butted heads ever since they were eleven years old.

She gave him an exasperated look. "We both know why," she responded. He continued to stare silently. "His _'furry little problem'_," she whispered in a conspirational tone, even though there was no one close enough to hear them.

For the second time in such a short span, Sirius didn't know what to say. He wondered briefly if Remus had actually confided _that_ secret to her, but just couldn't believe it. If his mate hadn't told Eris, who he fancied himself in love with, there was no way he would tell Lily he was a werewolf._ Stupid James_, he thought angrily, realizing how she knew, _I told him not to say it so much_.

"Have you gone mad?" he asked, resorting to his usual tactic of humiliating people whenever he was in a spot of trouble. It usually worked.

"Oh get _off_ it, Black," she said impatiently, "I figured it out a long time ago." She walked over to the willow and leaned against the large trunk. "I don't care about that… but Eris would."

"What am I supposed to do?" he snapped, deciding to neither confirm nor deny her suspicions. After that night in the Common room, Remus had only just begun to talk to him again, so as far as he was concerned, until Remus told him it was okay, he wasn't about to give _that_ secret away.

She shrugged. "I wish I knew," she said, slumping down to the ground beside him.

They both sat in silence, staring across at the lake, watching a giant squid tentacle pop out from the murky depths below to snatch a flying bird out of the air.

"By the way," she said breaking the peaceful silence - to Sirius' chagrin - "I overheard Bertha Jorkins telling some Ravenclaws that you and Remus are both madly in love with Eris and that she can't decide between you."

_What?_ He stared at her, confused.

"That's why you're fighting," she added by way of explanation.

"That fucking twat!" he spat.

She looked shocked for a moment. Then it turned to disapproval.

"What? Did I offend you?" He knew he had but he didn't care. He just wanted to hex Bertha Jorkins. "That great sodding cow!" he corrected.

"Better," Lily said, sounding too much like McGonagall in a single word than even the tight – bunned professor sounded sometimes.

"Great fucking twat of a cow!" he corrected once more under his breath. Lily still heard him.

"Nice," she said, shaking her head in disapproval. They both fell silent once more.

"I don't think we should push the issue if he wants to reconcile with her," she said after a while. He looked at her incredulously. _What? Lily Evans not trying to tell someone what to do?_

"So we just stand by and watch Sloane ruin his life?" He couldn't hide his disgust at the very idea.

"No," she said, giving him a fierce, determined look, "We support him and be his friend and we try like hell to keep her from finding out the truth."

Sirius knew exactly what she was proposing. _Keep your friends close and your enemies closer_. "We?" he asked, wondering just how she had become part of the equation.

"Yes," she said, her eyes blazing, "_We_. _All_ of us – you, James, Peter and myself."

He studied her face, trying to determine from where this sudden loyalty to Remus had sprung. It seemed she really wasn't bothered that he turned into a great snarling beast every full moon and it seemed that she cared about him as much as they did. He was tempted to throw her off, but he found he couldn't. Not now that he knew she accepted their mate no matter what.

"I'm going to have to speak to James," he began, "and Peter," he added when she opened her mouth as if to protest. "They're his mates as well."

"Good," she said, "So would I." He looked at her a little surprised, which she didn't notice, as she stood and wiped bits of grass off her robes.

"This doesn't mean I approve of your marauding ways," she said, turning back to him.

"Right," he said, smirking at her choice of words. _Marauding? _He liked the sound of that.

"And it doesn't mean I like you and your mate James," she went on, "with your bad influence on your friends and your picking on students and your… your... juvenile escapades."

"Heaven forbid," he teased.

"I'm just doing this for Remus." He knew that her speech wasn't meant for him.

"I'll let him know," he responded. She furrowed her brows. "James, I mean. I'll make it clear you don't fancy him."

She clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. "Just let me know what's happening," she said and turned. He watched her walk away, her comely figure growing smaller in the distance, as she joined her friends by the castle door.

For the first time in their six years at Hogwarts, he could see what his mate saw in the girl. She was more than pretty and smart, she had a kind heart and – despite all evidence to the contrary – an open mind. Walking back to castle, he came to the conclusion that he would have to be more subtle in the _helping – his – mates – with – the – ladies _department. Though subtlety wasn't his strong suit, he was determined to do everything he could to keep Eris from the truth, and now he had a new task – getting James the girl of his dreams. That, and hexing Bertha Jorkins.

**

* * *

**Sirius watched as Hagrid stomped happily in the dark from his cabin into the Forbidden Forest, a pole thrown over his shoulder, dead ferrets hanging from one end, and a boar hound at his heels. He wondered briefly what the ferrets were for, but having come face – to – face (or rather, snout – to – snout) with some of the creatures that lived there, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He crouched low in the grass and listened intently, until he couldn't hear the gamekeeper's low warbling voice, then slunk around the edge of the forest to the pumpkin patch, hoping to steal something to eat. 

A while later, his stomach gurgling hopefully (but in vain) for more sustenance, he sat back under the willow tree and looked up at Gryffindor Tower. He wondered what Harry was doing at this moment, safely ensconced in the Common Room or his dorm, unaware that the real danger to him was not outside the walls of the formidable castle, but probably right beside him, curled up in his mate's pocket, biding his time until…

Sirius couldn't bear it. He couldn't wait. He had to do something to get Peter away from Harry.

Looking up at the moon, a shining sliver set against the darkened sky, he thought of Moony, holed up in an office or perhaps in the staff room, probably thinking of Harry's safety as well. Then he thought of Moony's daughter, sitting in the same Common Room as James and Lily's son, probably unaware of what they had all meant to each other once. Did she know that Harry, her fellow Gryffindor, was not just a schoolmate, but family, like blood?

It dawned on him at that moment that the danger was not only for Harry, but Sophie as well. If Peter knew she was Remus' daughter, then he knew she was a werewolf – born not made – and her secret, her life, wasn't safe. A new determination stole through him, one that the memories that plagued him had eaten away, and he looked up at the sky once more. _Tomorrow_, he thought, with grave satisfaction. _Tomorrow Peter will die_.

* * *

The next few chapters (not sure how many yet) will take place on Halloween and tie into PoA, when Sirius attempts to break into Gryffindor Tower... and don't worry, Remus will show up in the story again... and yes, you will eventually learn Eris' secret...

**Coming Soon** - **Chapter 9:** (tentative title) **Disarm**... At last Sirius has his chance, Remus struggles with his guilt and Sophie gets a shock...


	9. Chapter 9

This chapter is again, without a title...

Okay, when you've read this chapter, you will say a)this is not what I was expecting! and b) what's the point of a preview when the writer doesn't stick to it?! In my defense, the past (aka the Mauraders' time) keeps popping into my head! If there was a way to make it stop... no, seriously, the flashbacks are important for character motive, insight, etc (and I'm overthinking this way too much).

So anyway, R & R and enjoy!

Thanks to my faithful reviewers. It keeps me writing.

**Disclaimer:** All hail the great literay goddess, JK Rowling, who I am not and alas, will never be. The characters sprung forth from her brilliant mind, and I only take credit in adoring each and every one.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

"Put it away, hurry!" Sirius urged, "She's coming!"

James and Peter scurried about, picking up plans of their latest endeavor hastily, while Remus shoved the Invisibility cloak into James' pack. Lily came around the corner of the little – used corridor, arm – in – arm with her new best friend, Eris Sloane.

"Hey, girls," said Peter, leaning against the wall of the empty corridor, trying to look casual. He leaned back a little too far and promptly fell on his large rump. Sirius glared at him, while James rolled his eyes and stuck out a hand.

"Hi, Pete," Eris greeted, without really looking at him (which was a good thing as he currently had his feet sticking up in the air). Staring at Remus, she planted a kiss on his cheek. "Hi," she said breathily.

Sirius rolled his eyes, careful not to let Remus (who'd coloured a little) see him. Lily gave him a stern look which he took as admonishment.

During their impromptu, secret meeting six weeks earlier, Lily, James and Peter had all decided to "embrace" Eris in an effort to keep their mutual friend safe. After some nudging on James' part (i.e. threats of bodily harm), Sirius had reluctantly agreed to go along with their scheme, even though he was convinced it would eventually blow up in their collective face when Remus found out.

The three boys went to Remus (James did the talking, of course) to try to convince him they were willing to give Eris a second chance if that's what he wanted. At first, he was skeptical but the boys all played their parts well – James was devil's advocate, Peter was agreeable to anything James said and Sirius had to be coaxed – though they took care not to make it seem staged (Sirius had a penchant for taking things too far). Remus had believed they were genuine and Sirius couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt, not for fooling Eris, who they had all agreed they didn't trust (though it took Peter a while to admit it because he was too busy sulking over being the last to know), but for fooling Moony, who was too smitten to see the girl's potential to ruin his life.

Lily quickly became her friend, even inviting her to eat with them at the Gryffindor table during meals in an effort to include her in Remus' life. The others, meanwhile, were cautiously friendly – at least James and Peter were – while Sirius took the role that would cause him the least pain. He was glad he didn't have to play Lily's role – he was sure he'd explode if he had to pretend he actually liked her – but he still found it difficult to reign in his urge to hex her to oblivion every time he saw her. He was fighting what had become that familiar feeling at the moment Lily and Eris happened upon them.

"So, are we still going to Hogsmeade for Remmie's birthday?" Eris asked, addressing James.

The four boys looked at each other in surprise, while Sirius looked at Remus accusingly. They had planned a late – night trip by secret passage to Hogsmeade for a drink to celebrate his coming of age. As it was against more than a few of the rules (including using a tunnel no one seemed to know about), and seeing as he _was_ a prefect and his fellow prefect was standing in front of them looking aghast, they just couldn't understand how he could be so stupid as to tell his girlfriend their plans.

"Don't look at me," Remus said quickly.

The boys all looked to Peter. "I didn't know it was a secret!" he said defensively, his hair in his face and his cheeks still pink from embarrassment .

"So it's true?" Lily asked. Her eyebrows were arched so high and her lips were pursed so tightly she looked like a demented version of McGonagall.

"No, no," said James hastily, "we'd never do that…" The look on her face stopped him abruptly.

"Well I think it sounds like fun," Eris said, smiling and hooking her arm around Remus' waist.

"Then it's a date," Sirius, who'd been quiet until then, said without a hint of sarcasm. They all looked at him, James and Lily with varying degrees of incredulity. Remus was the only one who looked genuinely pleased.

Lily glanced at Remus and seemed to reconsider. "I guess I could break a rule or two," she said uncertainly, which caused everyone, including Eris, to throw her incredulous looks. "Just this once!" she emphasized, looking directly at James. Sirius tried to hide his smirk as his mate gave her a beaming smile.

"Of course," James commented , his blue eyes shining behind his glasses.

The girls left, walking back towards the Ravenclaw Common Room and Remus, James, Sirius and Peter all made their way back to their dorm.

"No one told me we were allowed to bring dates!" Peter complained as they climbed the steps to Gryffindor Tower.

"Weren't you listening?" asked Sirius with irritation (he really hated Peter's lack of listening skills sometimes), "The girls invited themselves!"

"Well, if I would have known," he continued, unfazed by his mate's attitude, "I would have invited someone, too."

"Really?" James nudged him in the ribs. Remembering his vow to be kinder to Peter (a result of his verbal attack on their pudgy friend one night), he swiftly changed the tone of his voice. "So who did you have in mind?" he asked, trying for innocent curiousity.

Peter eyed him warily. He'd known Sirius too long to fall for that. "That blonde in our Herbology class."

"McKinnon?"

Peter nodded.

"Good choice," he said genuinely, "She's quite a looker, and mate, can she kiss."

Peter's face fell. James just shook his head and rolled his eyes as Remus patted Peter consolingly on the back.

"Isn't there anyone in sixth year you haven't snogged, Sirius?" Remus asked, trying not to smile. He was always smiling now.

Sirius pondered the question as they went through the portrait hole. "I can only think of two," he said, to which James thumped him on his shoulder.

"And it's going to stay that way," James said.

Once in the safety of their room, James pulled out the piece of parchment they had been huddled over in the corridor. They huddled over it excitedly. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," said Remus as he touched it with his wand. They watched with delight and satisfaction as lines began to snake around the sheet and tiny dots appeared.

"That is so excellent!" Peter exclaimed with awe.

"This should make things so much easier," said James.

"What should we call it?" Remus asked.

They were silent for a moment, each pondering what to name the glorious map of Hogwarts they had just completed (all thoughts of Quidditch, girls, and pranks banished from their minds) and had tested for the first time that afternoon.

Sirius had a sudden bolt of inspiration. "The Marauder's Map," he said, thinking of his conversation with Lily a few months earlier.

James, Remus and Peter all looked at him with awe.

"Excellent!" Peter exclaimed.

"Cool," said James.

Sirius eyed Remus, who was quietly staring at the map with a look of rapture.

"I think it's perfect," Remus said at last, his golden eyes twinkling with joy.

Sirius couldn't help but smile.

* * *

Remus couldn't help but smile. Despite all the things that had been plaguing him lately - and despite the fact that today was the anniversary of James and Lily's deaths - he felt blessed at the moment. He was sitting in the Three Broomsticks, a professor at Hogwarts, having a celebratory butterbeer with his daughter and her friends on her sixteenth birthday; his daughter who, despite being afflicted with the same curse, had grown into an intelligent, beautiful and kind - hearted young woman. His heart, at the moment, was bursting with pride.

"So, professor," Fred Weasley, who was currently seated to his right, said, "why is it Sophie here never lets us make a big deal out of her birthday?"

"Yeah, did she have a scary moment with a cake when she was a child?" asked George, flanking him on the left.

He looked at Sophie, who was engaged in conversation with her dorm mates. She was smiling and laughing across the table, looking as if she was genuinely enjoying herself. He knew exactly why she hated to get fussed over at her birthday, but wasn't about to share with the twins.

"How about I get us another round of drinks," he said, standing abruptly.

He walked over to the bar, wending his way through the crowded pub. It was the first Hogsmeade weekend and it seemed like every student from third year and up was sitting in the large room. He looked around and noticed a group of third year Slytherins eyeing him, the most vicious – looking being the Malfoy boy. Remus ignored the jeering looks and pushed his way into a small gap at the bar.

"Another round, professor?" Madame Rosemerta asked as she sauntered over from the other end of the bar.

"Yes, please," he said, feeling at once strangely shy. She smiled a dazzling white smile and walked back to fetch the drinks. It had been years since he'd seen her, but he felt like the awkward teenager that tried not to gawk (unlike most boys his age) whenever she walked by, her hips swinging just so. Rosemerta, the daughter of the original proprietor of the _Three Broomsticks_, was the object of many boys' affections over the years, but not more so than the years that Sirius and James had pursued her.

Remus looked away, trying again not to stare at the woman who had aged rather well, when the man beside him caught his eye. The man nodded curtly and Remus, always polite, nodded back. He looked across the room at the table where Sophie and her friends were currently chatting away.

"Pretty young thing," the man croaked, his voice deep and menacing.

Remus turned, giving him a fierce look. _He couldn't be talking about Sophie, could he?_

"Your daughter," the man added in explanation.

_He was_.

Remus opened his mouth to speak, indignant, but the man didn't give him a chance to utter a word.

"Sixteen years is a long time to keep a secret," the man continued, looking at Remus in the eye as if in challenge.

"Who are you?" he asked coldly.

"Doesn't matter who I am," the man retorted softly, turning back to his mead, "just what I know."

Remus, unnerved but unwilling to show it, looked the man up and down. "What do you want?" he asked more coldly (if it was possible) than before.

"Just making sure everyone's safe," he said casually, taking a sip of the mug in front of him, "What with a murderer on the loose, Dementors roaming Hogsmeade, and a couple of werewolves at Hogwarts." He looked from his mug back to Remus, his eyes blazing with smug satisfaction. The man was really enjoying himself.

Remus didn't know how to respond. He swallowed the lump that had settled itself firmly in his throat, looking around at the other patrons around them. No seemed to take any notice of their conversation.

"Everyone _is_ safe, aren't they?" he asked. "No fear of attacks from dark creatures?"

"No," he answered in a clipped tone. He wanted to tell the man to go to hell but was struggling to keep the wolf down.

"Good," the man answered, " 'cause if my associates and I get any whiff of danger from the likes of you or the young 'un, my mate there – " he pointed discreetly to a man seated just behind Sophie, " – well, let's just say he prides himself on ridding the world of beasts."

Remus noticed the man, who was dressed in tattered black cloak, smirk as he held a wand to Sophie's back from underneath it. Fighting every instinct to launch himself across the room and snap the man's neck (which he could do with such speed and ease, no one would notice until the body hit the ground), he continued to stare at the scene before him. Sophie sat oblivious to the danger she was in at the moment and he was grateful to her friends for keeping her distracted. He was sure she would have noticed otherwise.

Remus forced himself to look away and look directly into the eyes of the man who was threatening his child beside him. The expression on the man's face changed slightly and he seemed to back away when he looked back into his eyes.

"Consider this a warning from the Dark Force Defense League," the man said in a low whisper. His voice was a little unsteady. He stood up, made a show of reaching in his pocket lazily and dropping a knut on the bar (though Remus noticed his hand shaking), and gave him a nod, before walking out of the pub, his companion seated behind Sophie getting up and following him out into the light of day.

Remus stared at the door of the pub long after they left, his mind processing what had just taken place. The content feeling he had been enjoying only five minutes ago was gone, replaced by a burning anxiety at the pit of his stomach.

"Here you go, professor." Madame Rosemerta placed a tray of butterbeers on the counter. "So, what are you and your students celebrating?" she asked, smiling genially.

He turned to look at her. "Um," he faltered, his mind still reeling, "Uh, my, uh, daughter's birthday," he said, reaching into his pocket for coins.

"Your daughter?" she asked, sounding surprised. "Why, I never knew, which one is she?"

"The one on the end," he said, gesturing towards the table with a thrust of his chin.

Rosemerta smiled. "Well, then, consider this a bit o' Happy Birthday," she said, thrusting the tray towards him. "It's on the house."

Before he could protest or respond the barmaid had swept away back down to the other end to deal with a surge of customers. Remus picked up the tray and moved back towards the table, his body moving of its own volition, placed the tray on the table and promptly made an excuse to leave. He needed air to breathe, and quiet to think. He was standing outside the pub, the sun shining in his eyes, before he realized it.

"Dad?" Sophie came up behind him, obviously concerned about his hasty departure. "Dad, what's wrong?"

He pushed away every emotion he was feeling and turned, feigning a smile. "Nothing," he said, sounding oddly chipper, "Just remembered I've a delivery due any minute at Hogwarts. Need to get back to my office."

She looked at him, her expression shrewd and doubtful.

"Look," he said, "we'll still have our special birthday dinner, unless of course, you want to join the Feast?" She shook her head no. "Right then," he continued, clutching her shoulders gently, protectively, "I'll see back at the castle." He pulled her into a hug. "Promise me you'll stick with your mates," he added. She nodded, smiled and agreed. He planted a kiss on her forehead and waited until she was safely back in the pub before Apparating back to the castle's gates.

**888888888888**

"The Dark Force Defense League?"

"Yes."

Dumbledore paced his office, while Remus sat opposite the headmaster's desk, watching impatiently.

"I must confess, Remus," he said, taking his seat behind the desk, "I haven't heard that name in a long time."

"You haven't?" This was not what he wanted to hear.

The _Dark Force Defense League_, a relic from the days of the war, was known for its use of force in dealing with dark creatures and suspected dark witches and wizards. Self – appointed _'Defenders of Wizardkind'_, the DFDL as they were known in the magical world, were often as brutal as the Death Eaters during the height of the war and were rumoured to have exterminated a pack of werewolves who were in hiding just before Voldemort's fall from power. The Ministry of Magic, aware of the rumours, did nothing (it was only werewolves, after all). After the war, it was thought that they had disbanded, but some still believed they were still going strong. Remus hoped that wasn't the case.

The headmaster looked at him as if deciding how best to approach the subject with him. Remus had known the wizard long enough to know the look. "Give me a few days," he said folding his hands together on his desk, "I will see what I can learn about the latest reincarnation of our old friends, the DFDL."

Remus had been hoping for more, but he knew that Dumbledore would get answers for him. He stood up and thanked the Headmaster and left.

Before he realized it, he was standing in his office. It was still early enough in the day that the castle was almost empty. He checked his watch – only three more hours until his dinner with Sophie. He felt anxious, and wondered if it had been the right decision to leave her in Hogsmeade with her friends. _Would the DFDL be watching her? Would they follow her wherever she went? _Remus was busy pondering this when a lone figure walked across his open office door down the corridor and caught him by surprise. _James?_ he thought desperately before realizing who it really was. He sprung from his seat and poked his head out of the doorway.

"Harry?"

**888888888888**

Later that evening, as Remus sat in his office with his daughter (the spindly – legged table in the corner that normally held a pile of books transfigured into a dining table), enjoying the birthday feast set before them, his mind wandered back to the events of the day. He thought of the man at the pub, who'd threatened his daughter and caused him to worry for her safety even more than usual. Then his thoughts turned to his conversation with Dumbledore and the Dark Force Defense League.

"You might want to actually, I don't know, _eat _some of that." Sophie's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked down and noticed a heap of food on his plate, his fork suspended in mid – air above it with a bit of cold beef stew hanging off the end. He immediately put it down.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. He was ruining their first meal together in a month.

"So, are you going to tell what's wrong now?"

He opened his mouth to give the usual answer – "nothing" – but stopped himself. He knew she could see through him to a certain extent and to continue to lie to her was an insult to her intelligence. He decided on some form of the truth.

"It's Harry," he said as he pushed away his plate of cold food. "I ran into him today, after getting back from Hogsmeade."

She listened patiently as he told her about his brief conversation with the boy – the last conversation that was weighing heavily on his mind. He told her how he could only listen to James and Lily's son, without being able to comfort him in any way. He told his daughter, who he knew would understand, how he longed to tell the boy all the wonderful things he could remember about his parents, so that he would have better memories to dwell on than their last minutes on earth.

"But I can't," he told her sadly.

"Why not?" she asked innocently. To her, everything was so much simpler.

"He would ask too many questions," he answered, "and there are things I could never tell him." She seemed to understand.

"Maybe one day," she said softly.

"Yes," he agreed, though he found it unlikely, "Maybe."

* * *

**Coming Soon** - place previous preview here

The next chapter will be full of actiony - type goodness, what with a murderer trying to force his way into Gryffindor tower and all... and yes, it really will be coming soon!


	10. Chapter 10: Gold Lion

**Hi!**

Yes, this chapter is NOT what you were expecting -- that is definitely the _next_ chapter (seriously!)... this is a short little bridge (hopefully not filler) to the action...

**Warnings:** Earning its** M** this chapter with a smidgeon of smut (tastefully done, I think)...

**Disclaimer:** Not my world -- it and all its colourful inhabitants (except my OC) belong to Ms. Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 10:** Gold Lion 

Remus was nervous. No, to say he was nervous was an understatement – he was positively nerve – wracked with anticipation and dread. It was early in the morning, almost two, and was not officially his birthday anymore, but since he hadn't slept since the night before, Eris had convinced him it was still within reason to celebrate.

"What shall we do?" he'd asked her, as they strolled back through the secret passage from Hogsmeade hand – in – hand.

"We'll think of something," she'd answered coyly.

They'd walked back from Hogsmeade in relative silence, Peter and Sirius singing drunkenly behind them while James and Lily tried to keep them in line. Remus' head was spinning from the suggestion of those four innocent words. He wanted her desperately, and he'd had her once, the day they'd gotten back together in January, but this was different. They had fumbled and groped in the pitch black of the tiny space of a cupboard in any empty classroom. The sex had been quick, desperate and clumsy and they'd both been so embarrassed they hadn't attempted it again. She was only vaguely aware of some of his scars, and had never asked him how he came to have them but if he slept with her tonight, she would surely see his scarred body more clearly. He was afraid of what she might think, might say, might do. _You trust her_, he told himself, pushing the thought of what Sirius had told him months ago from his mind. _You love her. She loves you_.

When they'd made it back to the castle, Remus had helped James deposit their inebriated mates into their respective four – posters and then headed up to meet Eris in the owlery under James' Invisibility cloak (without Lily's knowledge, of course), his bespectacled mate patting him hard on the back and flashing him a goofy smile. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he'd warned as Remus had slipped under the cloak and made his way down the dormitory stairs.

He'd walked up the long spiral staircase to find a spot just under the largest, round window which had been cleared of tiny animal bones, a tent – like canopy draped over the side so that when he and Eris climbed under it, it was as if they were outdoors, their view of the grounds and the sky unobstructed. It was almost as if they were sitting on the roof. Eris convinced him to sit on the plush purple sleeping bag that lay open on the hard stone floor, and they rested against the many throw cushions arranged haphazardly on one end. Eris lay her head on his shoulder, entwined her fingers in his, and together they peered up at the star – strewn sky in comfortable silence, the soft hooting of owls, the rustling of wings and the clicking of beaks filling the night air.

"Oh, look at the moon," she whispered excitedly as it peaked out from behind the clouds. The silvery orb, only three – quarters full, seemed to taunt him as it hid its face once more. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Hmmm," was his only response, then, the absurdity of the words not lost on him, he turned his face towards hers. "Not nearly as beautiful as you," he breathed, unable to resist a self – deprecating smile.

Eris smiled, leaned closer to him and kissed him deeply, longingly, her tongue tracing his lips as she pulled away. Apparently, she liked the cliché.

"I have something for you," she said suddenly, sitting up and reaching underneath a pillow.

Remus sat up at once. "I thought we agreed," he said a little embarassed, "no presents."

"No," she responded, pulling out a small wrapped box, "_you_ suggested, _I_ agreed to nothing." She held the box out to him and looked at him expectantly.

He sighed, defeated, and reached for it; secretly glad she hadn't listened to him. He, like most people, loved to open presents – but unlike most, it wasn't the gift that excited him, it was the anticipation. He began to gingerly tear at the seams, and then quickened his pace when she glared at him.

"Do you like it?" she asked as he opened the lid and peered in. His heart sank as he reached in and pulled out a small gold lion and set it in the palm of his hand. Despite its size, it was heavy; telling him it was solid gold. Its eyes, two tiny diamonds, glittered brilliantly under the stars as it stalked the length of his hand.

"It's too much," he said trying not to sound accusatory. He knew he would never be able to afford to give her anything near as lovely or expensive. Or special.

"I knew you'd say that," she said, "but I couldn't resist. When I saw it in the shop window in Diagon Alley, it just reminded me of you."

He looked up from the lion to her dark, hazy eyes. "Diagon Alley?" he repeated. The last time she could have been anywhere near Diagon Alley was the holidays, when they had already broken up.

She blushed. "I bought it _because_ it reminded me of you," she explained, the colour on her cheeks deepening, "but now I have you back, so I want you to have it."

He couldn't help but smile at her confession. The truth was, when they were apart, everything he saw reminded him of her as well.

"The colour reminded me of your eyes," she went on nervously, "and obviously, the lion – "

He didn't let her finish. He pulled her close with his free hand and pressed his lips to hers. She seemed to melt into him and he was only vaguely aware of the lion falling to the cushions and scurrying beneath as he wrapped both arms around her waist and shifted, pulling her on top of him. Time and reality seemed to suspend themselves as they writhed against one another, kissing fervently until Eris broke away and pushed herself up to a sitting position. Remus felt a longing like he had never experienced. His head was swimming with the scent of her, his girlfriend, his love, and his ragged breathing matched hers.

"I have something else for you," she breathed. He looked up at her with anticipation. The dread had melted away. "Do you want it?"

"Yes," he managed to croak out, all doubt gone from his mind.

Say it," she teased.

"I – I want it." He watched as she stood over him, the darkened sky like an ominous halo around her head, her long, black hair waving in the breeze, as the stars flashed through wisps and strands. She reminded him suddenly of a story his mother had read to him as a child about a fallen angel. "I want you," he reiterated, pushing the strange thought out of his mind.

Her hands moved slowly down the front of her dress, fingers working at each delicate button. She smiled coyly and Remus had to resist the urge to lunge at her and throw her to the ground. _Down, boy, _he warned as the wolf stirred inside. Her buttons undone, she pushed the material off her shoulders, allowing her dress to drop to the ground. Remus moaned at the sight before him. Eris was standing in the moonlight naked save for a pair of knickers. His eyes roamed over her body, mesmerized, taking in every inch of her, from the jut of her hipbone to the soft pink hue of her nipples. He drank her in but didn't stir from where he lay. She watched him with lust in her eyes as she hooked a finger around each side of her knickers and pulled them down slowly. She let them drop to the ground and stepped out from the pool of clothes at her feet, pushed them aside and slowly lowered herself onto her knees and straddled his thighs.

"Touch me," she whispered boldly.

Remus, his eyes gazing deeply into hers, gulped down the large knot in his throat, and hands shaking slightly, breathe ragged and skin tingling, he reached out hesitantly, slowly, eagerly, longingly, and he did.

* * *

Sophie was glad to be eating this meal with her father on her birthday. It had been too long, or so it seemed, since she had gotten to have a real conversation with him. Seeing each other in the corridors, in classes, and when she had to get her dose of Wolfsbane potion, there was hardly any time for anything more than a casual greeting. And now, he'd opened up, told her what was weighing on his mind, and they were able to actually eat and talk freely. Of course, the truth was, Sophie also had something on her mind, and she would sooner die than tell her father. 

Her birthday had started well enough, with presents on her night table when she awoke – books, candy, a trick wand and a hand – knit scarf from her mates – and little fuss from her friends, which she appreciated. She disliked celebrating this day, which reminded her of the last time she saw her mother. She'd gone to breakfast and eaten her toast and bacon (she didn't like eggs) then headed towards the front door with Angelina to meet up with Cedric for Hogsmeade. But before she'd even seen him, she was swept up in a crowd of Weasley twins, Lee Jordan, Katie and her mate Leanne (all with brooms in hand) and marched out towards the gates for a surprise. Angelina stayed behind long enough to let Cedric know she'd meet him in town and before she could guess where they were taking her, they'd flown (Sophie on the back of Katie's Comet) to the Three Broomsticks. The surprise turned out to be a rather good one, with her father smiling and beckoning them over to a large table he'd been holding in the increasingly – crowded pub.

They had a few rounds of butterbeer, and Sophie got to witness firsthand the respect and awe her father ignited. He was easy and open, telling a few rather tame tales of his days in Hogwarts, going on about some bloke or other who did something spectacularly naughty (like lighting all the Slytherin Quidditch players' brooms on fire – during a match) but never implicating himself (but Sophie knew better). And then his mood changed in an instant and he'd practically run from the pub, making her promise to stick with her mates and giving her the excuse she needed to force Cedric to change his plans for their day. They'd ended up wandering the shops in a group, Cedric feeling out of place in the group of mostly Gryffindor Quidditch players, some of whom (read: the Weasley twins) felt the need to point out he wasn't invited every chance they got.

They'd gotten back to the castle just in time for the feast, and Cedric, looking rather grumpy, had pulled her aside and asked her to meet him by the Hufflepuff corridor afterwards. She hadn't promised anything, making the excuse of dinner with her father in his private quarters but while usually stingy with words, he'd been insistent, and she'd agreed to try. The way he'd kissed her, pressing her up against the wall in a darkened niche by the main stairs, his hands on the small of her back, his arousal pressing against her thigh, left her with no doubt of his intentions. And she knew, in her heart as well as her mind, that she wasn't ready for _that_.

"Are you ready for dessert?"

She looked up from her plate to her father's smiling face. He was holding a golden plate of chocolate cake, cut up into perfect triangles, the chocolate shavings on top falling to the table as he placed a piece on a plate and pushed it towards her. Chocolate wasn't her favourite, it was his, but she ate it happily, feeling the sugar and cocoa rush through her system, clearing her mind and creating the lift her spirits needed. After they each had a second slice, they both sat back, satisfied. Her father sighed as he surveyed the table. She knew what he was thinking_. A waste_.

"Do you think we could owl it to Wilbur?" she asked, thinking of her pet pig and how she missed him. He chuckled and smiled.

"It won't go to waste," he said, tapping the plates with his wand. The plates vanished. "The house elves donate what isn't touched to needy families in neighbouring towns."

"I didn't know that," she said, surprised by the creatures' generousity.

"You would if you'd read _Hogwarts, A History_." She rolled her eyes. She was an avid reader, but to him she was a novice. He was always trying to get her to read more.

Her father stood up and walked to his desk, pulled out a small wrapped box and placed it in front of her. "I bet you were wondering when you were going to get this," he said, eyes twinkling with delight.

She hadn't been expecting a gift. Her last two birthdays, she'd gone without one and she hadn't minded (well, she'd minded a bit) but this was the first time in many years her father had a steady job, good pay and little expenses.

"Aren't you going to open it?" he asked, eyeing her curiously.

She tore the paper just enough to open the lid, an action which elicited laughter from her father. When she pulled it open, a small golden lion jumped out of the box and onto the table and began to prowl around the empty dishes. "Is it real?" she asked breathless, her eyes wide in wonder.

He laughed. "No, honey, it's a solid gold lion, it's not actually a –"

"That's not what I meant!" she interrupted. He was taking the piss and she hated when he did that. It usually meant he was avoiding something.

"I didn't buy it," he said, guessing that she was concerned over the expense of such an extravagant gift, "a friend gave it to me years ago and I thought you'd like to have it."

"You've had it all this time?" she asked. She'd never seen it before.

"In my vault at Gringott's" he answered, "among the piles of dust." He smiled a little too widely, the corners of his eyes crinkling and making him look like a little boy.

"It must be expensive," she said, picking the lion up by its head and examining its features. It swiped its golden paws at her hand futilely. Apparently, it didn't like that.

"I would think so," he said, his tone changing slightly. She looked at him and noticed the sad look on his face.

"Who gave it to you?" she asked, suddenly curious. It would have had to be someone who _really_ liked him – a wealthy friend, a girlfriend, her mother? _No, not her_, she thought doubtfully. _Could it?_

Before he could answer, there was a sudden, insistent knock on the door.

"Remus!" came an urgent muffled voice from the other side. It sounded like Professor McGonagall.

Her father jumped up and in three long strides he reached the door. He pulled it open hastily, alarmed, like Sophie, by the tone, and was greeted by the panicked witch.

"What's wrong?" he asked hastily. Sophie could hear the hint of panic in his voice.

"Oh, Remus," she said, rushing in and looking flustered, "it's Sirius Black! He's here!"

* * *

(A bit cliffhanger - like, I know...) 

Did you like? Did you not? Let me know -- a few words, a lot (a smiley face, a frown), it doesn't matter...

**BTW**, 'G_old Lion'_ is a Yeah Yeah Yeahs song which is so perfectly titled for a Gryffindor and is just raunchy enough to work in this scene...

The next chapter is coming soon! Stay tuned!


	11. Chapter 11: Disarm

**Hello!**

Halloween night continues...

**Warning:** for language (not much, though)

R & R!

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, hers, etc...

* * *

**Chapter 11:** Disarm 

_"The killer in me is the killer in you."_

_**Disarm**_, Smashing Pumpkins

Remus couldn't believe his nerve. _He actually tried to get into Gryffindor Tower. What was he thinking?_ he pondered incredulously. A part of him, the tiny part that still found it hard to believe that Sirius was capable of such betrayal, was questioning his old mate's logic, while his sense and reason screamed the obvious – Sirius was a_ Death Eater_, of course he would try and finish the job that his _'master'_ had started twelve years ago.

He wandered the corridors, wand out, a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach. He knew that Sirius wasn't there anymore. He'd fled the moment he realized he wouldn't be getting his way, Remus was sure of it. Yet still, he had to keep up appearances; he had to keep Dumbledore and the rest of the staff believing that he had no idea just how Sirius had managed to break into – and now flee – Hogwarts castle. He had to keep up the lie.

**888888888888**

Sophie stood behind the office door, the sound of the lock clicked firmly in place still ringing in her ears. Her father and Professor McGonagall had gone off to join the rest of the staff in the search for Sirius Black and they'd locked her in for her own safety. She'd wanted to argue, force them to let her head back to the Great Hall with the other students but the look on her father's face had stopped her from saying a word.

Sophie knew, of course, that they wouldn't find him. As the dog, he would have slipped out of the castle easily enough, and could even hide in plain sight on the grounds and no one would suspect it was him. How could they? One of his best mates, her father, had divulged every detail about Black that he knew, and being able to turn at will into canine form was not among them.

When her father had swept from his office after McGonagall, she could feel the tension coming off him. With the full moon less than a week away, she worried for his well – being, especially because she knew he would somehow blame himself for Black's actions and, despite the Wolfsbane potion, the wolf would punish him accordingly.

_Damn you, Black_, she thought angrily as she paced the office, wringing her hands. _Why did you have to come back here?_ But she knew the answer to that. Harry.

**888888888888**

_Damn him_! Remus cursed to himself as he turned into another deserted corridor on the fourth floor. _Damn him straight to hell!_ His mind was racing over the old memories, the ones in the days leading up to Voldemort's downfall. Every smile and friendly gesture he'd witnessed take place between James and Sirius now haunting him. It made him want to howl in pain, frustration, anger, rage… He thought fleetingly of Harry and what he must be feeling. Did he even suspect Black was after him?

It was all too much. Sirius loose on the world again brought it all back. _You don't deserve to live_, he thought angrily as he pictured Sirius' waxen, disfigured face in his mind's eye.

He had to stop him – he was the only one who could. _If I ever lay eyes on him again_,he resolved gravely,_ I'll take care of him myself – once and for all_.

But even as he stood in a darkened corner of a fourth floor corridor, unaware that his feet were now still while his mind continued to race down memory's path, he knew, somewhere deep inside, that he could never go through with it. To his detriment, to his shame, Sirius still held a place in his heart – his old mate, his brother, his only living friend. And even though, as a werewolf, it was in his nature to kill, he knew he could never hurt someone he had once loved – even if that someone did not exist anymore – because Remus knew, sadly, the man in his heart once had.

**888888888888**

Sophie continued to pace the length of the room for some time, going over the little details her father had told her about Black in her mind. There wasn't much. She knew he had been popular, like Harry's father, and that he was from a once – respected pureblood family, almost all of them dead. She also knew he was the last male in the Black line, and that one of his cousins, a woman, had been in Azkaban with him. She didn't know why it was so important to her to know as much about the man as she could. Maybe it was a way to distract herself from the tension of waiting for word of his whereabouts, or maybe it was because she still found it difficult to believe that Black was the same person who had helped her.

She stopped at the window and looked out onto the grounds. A lantern light flashed across the lawn by Hagrid's cabin. _Must be Filch_, she thought as the light swung over the grass, illuminating small patches as it moved back towards the castle. She sighed and looked down, then back up towards the lake, silently pondering how much longer she would be stuck there when something caught her eye. A swift movement in the shadows, gleaming eyes and a moment later she saw it. The dog. But he wasn't alone. On his tail, creeping stealthily behind him was a cat. Not just any cat – Hermione's cat Crookshanks.

She watched in disbelief as they darted across the grounds towards the Whomping Willow and slid easily from view. She didn't need to see anymore. She knew exactly where he and the traitorous cat were going – The Shrieking Shack.

**888888888888**

"Any luck?"

Madame Hooch surveyed Remus groggily, her cloak pulled over blue striped robes.

"No," he answered, shaking his head. He turned to Dumbledore, who stood just outside the closed doors of the Great Hall. "The fourth floor's clear, sir," he reported.

"Thank you, Remus," he acknowledged, as other professors approached. He turned and received the same news from the others.

Remus watched wearily, exhaustion and anxiety having zapped him of any energy he had left. He suspected it was the effects of the impending full moon, which seemed to be hitting him all of a sudden since he started the Wolfsbane regimen two months ago. But he realized it was just as likely that worrying about Sirius was taking its toll.

"It's obvious that Black has fled," he heard Dumbledore saying. He turned his attention to the headmaster once more. "Perhaps it's best if we keep the students here tonight as they're already settled in for the night." He looked around and his eyes lingered just for a moment on Remus. "I need a few volunteers to keep watch over the students – two or three will do – and the rest of you can get some rest." He looked at Snape. "Severus," he said, "no need to volunteer, you have the earliest class tomorrow." He surveyed the others. "You, too, Remus," he said casually dismissing him, but Remus knew he the truth. The headmaster was worried for him.

_Merlin, I must look like the back end of a hippogriff_, he thought as he walked back to his office. The guilt that he had been carrying around with him for the past twelve years was steadily gnawing away at his conscience. _You have to tell him_, he thought. _You have to tell Dumbledore the truth_. His mind turned to Sophie, locked in his office, and he wondered what she might was feeling as she waited alone. _If you tell Dumbledore, what will happen to her?_ a tiny voice in his head asked him. He didn't know. He didn't want to find out.

**888888888888**

Sophie had to get him. She had to get to him now.

She searched the room desperately for something, anything that could help her do what her mind had already resolved to do, her eyes falling over objects in the room in desperation. _I can't let him get away! _She felt panic rising within at the realization that she was locked in with no way out. She could feel the tears building at the frustration and anxiety that was climbing slowly but steadily in her body. She whirled around wildly, a constricted feeling in her chest, when her eyes fell on a small blue pot sitting on the mantle of the fireplace and a sudden thought occurred to her. _No_, she thought, _it couldn't_… _but it's possible_…_ more than possible_…

Suddenly and without a thought for anything or anyone other than the nagging need to follow the dog, Sophie crossed the short distance to the fireplace, opened the pot and pulled out a handful of green powder. She threw it swiftly into the simmering fire, causing it to rise up in great emerald flames. She stepped into the fire and felt the odd sensation of white – hot tickling flames around her. She closed her eyes, took a breath and uttered three words clearly -- "The Shrieking Shack."

**888888888888**

Remus became increasingly aware that someone was following behind him. He turned around slowly to face his stalker, sensing who it was before they spoke.

"Don't think for a second you fool me, _Lupin_," Severus seethed, suddenly stepping out of the shadows. His pointy face was screwed up in a grimace.

"I wouldn't try," he answered wearily. He wasn't up to this conversation.

"Couldn't get the password from one of your students?" Snape asked, changing his tone, "Or did you not have time to communicate with your _mate_?" He bared his yellow, crooked teeth as he grinned malevolently.

Remus sighed, suddenly feeling like the day was never going to end. "Whatever you say, Severus," he answered, sounding defeated. He didn't want to argue; he just wanted to see his daughter and go to sleep. But it had been the wrong thing to say to the man who still held a boyhood grudge.

Without a word, he advanced on Remus and jabbed his wand at his throat. "Confess _now_," he whispered with suppressed rage, "and I'll spare the girl."

The last words hit a raw nerve. Before he even realized he'd moved, he was inches from Snape's shocked face, his hand twisted around his throat, and the Potions professor was slammed up against the wall.

**888888888888**

Sophie fell with a hard thump onto the grimy wooden hearth in what was supposed to be the sitting room of the Shrieking Shack. She jumped up quickly, her eyes darting around the dark, creaky room when she heard the unmistakable sound of a door closing. She ran to the front door and pulled it open, her sense run away with her reason, and she spotted the distinct outline of the ginger cat creeping through the grass towards the village. But there was no sign of Black in the still and quiet night.

_Where is he?_ she wondered. _Where has he gone?_

She took a few tentative steps out of the hand – me – down refuge, when she felt a sudden chill like a single, frozen bead of water sliding down her spine. She heard Crookshanks suddenly spit and hiss and saw the shadow of the cat streak across her path. She didn't have to turn and look to know what had frightened the feline but still something compelled her to do just that.

If she'd been in her animal form, her fur would have stood up on end as she spotted half a dozen Dementors sweeping towards her up the hill. Ascending faster from the village below, their collective rattling breath seemed to wail in her ears like a siren.

_Run!_ her sense told her, but she couldn't move. Her feet were rooted to the spot and the bravery that she'd had on the train, facing a single creature as it hunted for prey, had evaporated as an overwhelming feeling of despair washed over her. She dropped to her knees and began to sob as every negative emotion that she'd bottled up for months coursed through her like adrenaline. She fought desperately to keep her head as they closed in on her. "No!" she tried to scream, though it came out as a strangled cry. "Noooo!"

Suddenly, out of the darkness, the black shaggy dog came bounding towards her. It clamped onto her arm, sending a sudden shock of pain through her and bringing her to her senses. She scrambled to her feet as the dog barked madly, took hold of a pant leg and pulled her back towards the house. She almost fell over but regained her balance quickly and threw herself across the threshold of the Shrieking Shack.

**888888888888**

"Don't you _ever_ threaten my daughter!" he hissed, the taunts from the man in the bar fresh in his mind. He had a sudden thought as he stared into the former Slytherin's wide eyes that _he_ had probably tipped of the DFDL about him and Sophie.

"L - let g -go!" Snape's voice was a hoarse, desperate wheeze.

Remus suddenly realized what he was doing. Horrified, he dropped his hand and backed away. Snape slumped to the ground, rubbed his neck and coughed violently. Feeling guilty and ashamed, he stepped towards his colleague to offer a hand. Snape, still coughing, grabbed for his wand and in one swift motion shot a stinging hex at his head. It grazed his shoulder, causing a nasty sensation to shoot through his arm. He grabbed his shoulder, stumbled back and hit the opposite wall.

He watched as Snape pointed his wand at him again and he knew he wouldn't be able to dodge it. _I deserve it_, he thought numbly seconds before the spell hit him squarely in the chest.

**88888888888**

Sophie sat panting and bleeding with her back against the front door, the dog leaning heavily on it beside her. The negative emotions that had gripped her like panic were slowly ebbing away and she realized that the Dementors were retreating. A few minutes later, her breathing normal, she knew they were gone. _But why?_ she thought, confused. _Why didn't they just force their way in?_

The dog whimpered to get her attention and moved towards the stairs as if beckoning her to follow.

"No," she said firmly, despite her jangled nerves. "Show yourself. I already know who you are."

She didn't know what to expect but she sat slumped against the wall holding her injured arm in her hand with steely resolution. The seconds ticked by as the pale – eyed dog looked at her with curious eyes. Then it happened. All at once the dog transformed into a man, who stood tall and ragged and so thin and frail – looking, she could hardly believe the man and the bear of a dog were one in the same.

"Are you simple?" was the first thing out of his mouth.

Sophie was taken aback.

"I asked you a question," he croaked. His voice sounded like he'd been choked repeatedly.

"Are _you_?" she shot back.

He looked at her, his grey eyes gleaming, as he tilted his head to the side as if she were a puzzle he was trying to fit together. Then he smiled.

"What are doing here?" His voice seemed harsh but slightly softer. The smile was gone.

"Isn't it obvious," she answered, unnerved by the friendly gesture. She was suddenly aware that she was face – to – face with _the_ Sirius Black. The implications of _that _were staggering.

"You could have been killed," he said plainly.

"Well now you can finish the job." She knew it was foolish to taunt the man in any way but she had already gone too far to back down.

"Get up," he said, turning away and walking to the back of the house towards the tunnel.

She couldn't fathom why he was acting so oddly with her – smiling and turning his back as if he was sure she wouldn't attack. Surely a man like him wouldn't trust anyone. Surely this man, a Death Eater, would have done away with her by now, or let the Dementors do it for him. Instead, he had now saved her twice.

She got to her feet and followed. As she crept a fair distance behind him, confused by his actions and her own inaction, a familiar voice began to whisper in her head. _You know why_, it growled with satisfaction. _You know why he's not afraid_ – _It's because of me_.

**888888888888**

"That was really very foolish of the both of you," Minerva said as she guided Remus back to her office.

"I know," he answered, feeling ashamed, "I'm sorry."

McGonagall had happened upon the dueling pair as they nursed their wounds and their pride. She'd expressed her shock at them both and Snape, having regained his oily tone and some composure, had slunk away, looking more livid than ever.

She stopped and looked up to face him. "Remus," she said, her voice kind and gentle, "you've no need to apologize to me." She shifted his weight as he leaned on her shoulder and resumed the slow walk down the deserted corridor. "I'm aware what Severus thinks of you, and I remember the animosity between the five of you – " She stopped abruptly.

Remus pulled away to better look at her. "It's fine, Minerva," he said, remembering to use her first name as she'd asked. He knew that she had been affected greatly by the tragedy twelve years ago as well. "And you're right, there _was_ animosity between us as boys, but we should have been able to get past it by now." He had so wanted that to be true.

"I doubt that Severus will make it easy," she replied, "but for both your sakes you have to try." There was no judgment in her tone. It made Remus feel slightly better.

"I will," he said as they approached her office door.

"Good," she said, giving him a small smile, "Now let's get you cleaned up. You wouldn't want anyone to see you like this." She led him over the threshold and placed him on a hard wooden chair.

Despite her kind words, guilt and shame were eating away at him. And to top it all, the voice that had been so clear inside his head – the voice of the wolf that always prowled inside him – was still present. _You should have let me snap his neck_, it seemed to whisper in his ear. _You should have let me do it_. _Then he'd never threaten our cub again_.

"Minerva," he said, trying to drown out the voice in his head with his own as she dabbed at the cut on the back of his head, "I think I should be the one to tell Dumbledore." He knew it had to come from him.

Her eyebrows shot up. "Why's that?" she asked, sounding and looking like the stern professor he remembered.

"I – I just think it would be better coming from me." He didn't want to think of the disappointment on Dumbledore's face when he found out. He didn't want to think of the consequences.

"I wasn't planning to tell him, Remus," she stated as she waved her wand over his head. He felt the cut being mended. "And I don't think it would benefit either one of you to let him know."

He couldn't believe it. McGonagall was actually offering to cover up for him. He sat silently, the voice subsided, as she finished vanishing away the telltale signs of a scuffle on his clothing, including the singe marks on his chest from the very effective stingin hex Snape had shot his way. He thought of the right thing to say.

"Thank you," was all he could come up with. He knew it fell short.

She looked down at him, smiled and nodded her head once in understanding. "Your welcome," she answered. "Now off you go, before your daughter climbs up the walls waiting for you."

He leapt up, suddenly remembering Sophie's worried face as he left his office. He thanked her again hastily and, limbs aching, bounded up the stairs. He was sure she would be angry when he got there. He only hoped she could understand. He only hoped she could forgive him.

* * *

Yes, the night continues in the next chapter. Here's a preview: 

_'Sirius could feel her amber eyes burning into the back of his head as he led Remus' daughter back down the tunnel towards the castle. He wondered if she was trying Legilimency on him but couldn't remember if he'd learned it at Hogwarts or not. Maybe his parents had taught him? **No**, he thought bitterly, **they'd have never bothered**. It irked him that he couldn't remember. Some memories were so clear to him now, but others...'_

Next chapter, titled, _**'I'm Your Villain'**_ coming _very_ soon!


	12. Chapter 12: I'm Your Villain

This is a short chapter, written fairly quickly but is _not_ - I hope - a filler. A little R & R never hurt anyone, so please take the time to do both...

**BTW:** to _rockstar-101_ In the last chapter, I meant to say _stupid, idiotic_, etc.but used _'simple'_. Maybe not the best word choice, but when you write it you know what you mean to say, but forget that other people reading it aren't in your head (except for the voices - Those damn voices!) Hope it makes sense now!

**Warnings:** for mild violence, language - the usual.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own the Potterverse (who came up with t_hat_ anyway? BTW, don't own _that_ either!), not making any profit, just trying to work out this obsession...

* * *

**Chapter 12**: I'm Your Villain 

Sirius could feel her amber eyes burning into the back of his head as he led Remus' daughter back down the tunnel towards the castle. He wondered if she was trying Legilimency on him but couldn't remember if that subject had been taught at Hogwarts or not. He couldn't recall how _he_ had learned. Maybe his parents had taught him? _No,_ he thought bitterly, _they'd never have bothered_. It irked him that he couldn't remember. Some memories were so clear to him now, but others…

He stopped abruptly as the starlit sky came into view through the hole at the base of the Whomping Willow. "This is as far as I go," he croaked as he turned to face her. His throat stung as he spoke; his voice wasn't used to forming words anymore.

She stared at him with wide amber eyes, the look behind them unfathomable. "I'm not leaving," she stated. She sounded resolute.

"Get the fuck out of here!" he snapped, growing angry. He couldn't understand why she was there. If she'd wanted to do away with him she'd done a poor job planning. She hadn't even bothered to bring a wand. _Maybe it's a trap_, he thought suddenly. _No_, he decided quickly, _It's obvious she's acting alone_. He doubted Remus had a clue where his daughter was at the moment.

"Not until you tell me you're going to leave. Tonight." She sounded sure of herself, firm, but Sirius could see in her eyes that her own words had come as a surprise to her. Maybe she _had _come to kill him.

He stepped towards her swiftly but stopped just out of arms reach. "What's it to you?" he asked in annoyance. She really was becoming a pest. _Just like her mother_, he thought, but a small part of him knew there was more to it.

She scoffed at his words, still standing her ground (she hadn't even flinched as he approached). "You're _fucking mad_ if you think I'll let you kill him!" she snapped, the pupils of her eyes suddenly becoming vertical slits. They stayed like that for a few seconds then became round once more.

Something in the back of his mind was warning him something wasn't right. He made the conscious effort not to take a step back. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into, _little girl_," he breathed menacingly. _I have to get out of there now!_ he thought urgently, but she was in his way. He needed her gone. Peter was going to die whether anyone knew it or not and no one, not even Dumbledore himself, would stop him. Certainly not a teenage girl.

"I know your secret," she retorted, her voice barely audible, "so I can either turn you in or," she hesitated, "you can go away – I don't care where – just leave us alone." There was a distinct edge in her tone. She really was so much more like the wolf than Moony had ever been. He wondered briefly how anyone could miss it.

"Don't threaten _me,_" he responded. Her words grated him immensely. He wasn't about to leave Harry unknowingly in the clutches of Peter Pettigrew. "I know your secret, too."

Her eyes unblinking, she fixed him with a steely gaze. "Just leave us alone," she repeated, an edge of defeat in her tone as her voice wavered.

He grabbed her shoulders roughly and the steely look fell away, revealing panic, fear. Sirius felt a sort of satisfaction at getting that reaction. It would be easier to intimidate her and make her go away if she was afraid of him. "Stay out of it, hear me!" he spat, baring his rotted teeth as he spoke. "Go back to the castle and pretend you never saw me!"

"No!" she said defiantly, despite her shaking limbs. "I won't let you kill Harry and neither will my father!"

The words hit him with brutal force, the steely belief behind them tearing away at his heart. _So Moony told her_, he thought sadly. _He still believes it. He doesn't know_. _But how could he?_

He continued his tight grip on her shoulders, a part of him willing to do anything to frighten her away, but another part of him worried of going too far. He pulled her closer, deciding on the spur of the moment to play up his role as the villain in her eyes , and moved his hands – grabbing her forearms instead – to keep her from fighting back. "Get out and keep your mouth shut or I will shut it _permanently_," he breathed menacingly between gritted teeth. His gaunt face was inches from hers and her body shook in his vice – like grip as he squeezed the arm he'd bitten harder than the other.

She screwed up her face and closed her eyes suddenly, letting out a strangled cry and he felt her limbs seizing in his hands. At first, he thought that he'd squeezed too hard but then he looked down and watched in horror as her small, delicate fingers elongated into sharp, feral claws. He let go instinctively and backed away.

She let out an eerie, guttural growl and swiped her clawed hands at him, catching his robes with razor – sharp nails. She was still human, but her eyes were almost yellow and the dark vertical slits of her pupils had returned. He shoved her away in shock but she pounced on him, a mixture of unintelligible words and growls spewing from her as she ripped at his arms and stomach. He yelped with pain as he tried to fight her off but she was strong and her reflexes quick and he couldn't stave her off. Thinking only of getting away, he transformed, ran at her and knocked her down, then turned quickly back to human form and pinned her to the floor. She writhed underneath his bony body, revealing sharp fangs as she bared her teeth and screamed.

"Get off me!" she yelled, her voice sounding human once more. He pressed all his weight down and held her to the ground. The young girl, the fight apparently knocked out of her, began to sob as the claws detracted and her wolfish hands became human once more.

"Calm down!" he urged her as tears streamed down her face, "Calm down, I won't hurt you!"

She stopped struggling but continued to sob, her eyes shut tight and her face turned away from his. He suddenly felt sorry for her. It was obvious she hadn't expected that to happen. He hadn't even known that kind of thing was possible. _Had she?_ Her sobs quieted, except for the occasional shuddering breath and he loosened his grip and shifted his weight so that he was now kneeling on the ground beside her. She looked so helpless and weak as she lay there he could hardly believe she had attacked him viciously just moments before.

"Look at me," he whispered after a while. She turned her head slowly and opened her eyes. The pain encased in her amber orbs was heart – wrenching. "I won't hurt you," he assured her, "I won't hurt Moony – just stay out of my way."

She blinked and her eyes seemed more focused. "Stay…" she drew in a shuddering breath, "Stay… away from… _Harry_," she whispered, struggling with emotion. Then, her face set like stone, she whispered, "Don't make me kill you." The honesty of her words made him shudder. He knew she meant it, he knew she could do it – and so did she.

Before he could register any reaction, they both heard a thumping sound come from the front room of the house. Sure that someone had come looking for the girl, he jumped up, took one last look at Moony's daughter lying on the ground, and with a silent plea to 'stay out of it' with his pale, grey eyes, he bounded away, transforming mid – step as he ran down the tunnel towards the grounds, back to his refuge in the Forbidden Forest, his mind all the while reeling at what had just taken place.

**888888888888**

Remus stooped low, creeping through the tunnel as the panic that had seized him when he'd realized what Sophie had done continued to ebb and flow. _Where is she?_ He couldn't believe she would try and go after Sirius herself. _Please let her be alright_, he pleaded to the gods. He only cared about finding her safe. Until then, he couldn't think about anything else.

He rounded the sharp corner in the tunnel and immediately spotted her, resting against the dirt tunnel wall, her legs pulled up to her chest.

"Sophie!" he cried, running to her and throwing his arms around her. Her face was buried between her arms and knees. He ran his hands over her head and shoulders, checking to see if she was hurt, then pried her face from her arms and noticed her bleeding forearm. "You're hurt!" he exclaimed, taking her hand gingerly and pulling out her arm. She resisted.

"Sophie," he said gently, "you're hurt, let me see." Her face still half – hidden, she let him check her arm. Blood was stickly wet around deep teeth marks. "What bit you?" he asked, though he already knew.

"Padfoot," she whispered, her voice quivering. He started, a sudden urge to cause Sirius pain coming over him, but her voice brought him back from the wolf's control. "He did it – he did it saving me," she continued, "from Dementors."

Remus blinked repeatedly, trying to let her words sink in. He was having trouble with the concept of Sirius as his daughter's saviour. Again.

"Daddy?" Her voice was small and her face was tear – stained. The sight of her in that state was too much for him.

"Let's get out of here," he said soothingly, running a hand over her face and wiping moist tears with the pad of his thumb, "Everything's going to be fine."

An hour later, as he watched Sophie finally drifting off to sleep in his bed while he sat by the window in his private quarters just behind his office, he had the horrible feeling that nothing would be '_fine_' again.

Sophie had told him what happened, how Sirius had pulled her back into the Shrieking Shack, how he'd told her to leave and how she'd resisted. She told him that he'd threatened her, and then promised he wouldn't hurt either one of them but Remus had the feeling a large part of the story was missing.

No matter the details, the fact was that Sirius had taken Sophie out of harm's way for the second time – the third if he counted modifying Sir Higginbottoms' memory. When Sophie had asked him, just before settling into bed, why he thought that Sirius had gone to such lengths, he told her he didn't know. But that was a lie. The more he thought about it, the more he suspected that Sirius had more than a passing interest in the young girl. He knew what she was. Perhaps he thought he could use her to get to Harry. Perhaps he thought in his twisted, evil mind, that he could persuade her to turn against all that was good in her life and turn his lycanthropic mate's daughter into one of _them_.

The thought of it made him shudder but he knew it was likely. He himself had been approached by Voldemort's followers during the first war. They'd tried to recruit him, offered him freedom, riches – anything they could to sway him to the other side. He hadn't even been tempted but he knew other werewolves who had. But he couldn't fathom Sophie doing the same. It just wasn't in her.

As he sat staring at the grounds which were quiet and still, belying the turmoil the darkness ensconced, he came to the conclusion that Sophie would need to be watched more closely. Though she'd promised never to do anything so foolish again, he just didn't trust that she could curb her animal instincts. It had always been a struggle for him (the duel with Snape a glaring reminder) and he'd seen her struggle to tame the wolf in the past. The truth had been a terrible burden to place on the shoulders of a barely sixteen – year old girl. He couldn't expect her to deal with all of it well. He'd certainly had a time of it when he was her age.

The next morning he informed her that she would not be allowed out of bounds during the rest of the year. That meant that Hogsmeade visits were now banned, as was visiting the Shrieking Shack. She'd been angry but speechless. She seemed to realize that she'd pushed it too far the night before and took her punishment, though he could tell she wasn't happy about it. He knew it was harsh but it had to be done. If he had to look the villain in his daughter's eyes to keep her safe, he would eagerly take on the role – _anything_ to keep Sirius away from her.

* * *

I was kind of on the fence about this chapter. Not as actiony as I imagined. It turned out _not_ how I expected. I don't hate it, but...

The next chapter is half - written and may take a little while longer to post (this one was unusually quick). There is no preview (because I'm too lazy - and tired), but I _will_ tell you that the story is moving on from Halloween night and finally moving forward. Relationships issues get resolved and/or given insight, and... you'll just have to wait for it! Bye!


	13. Chapter 13: Walk Away

This chapter, like the last one, takes its title from a Franz Ferdinand song (I forgot to mention it last time - sorry).

Please continue to **_R_ **after you _**R** -_ a few words are greatly appreciated.

(**BTW** - Thanx to my faithful reviewers. You rock!)

**Disclaimer:** The characters you recognize belong to JK Rowling. The ones you don't belong to my twisted mind.

* * *

**Chapter 13:** Walk Away 

For the next few days, Sophie heard nothing but talk of Black everywhere she went. The students, relishing in the morbid excitement of a killer on the loose having broken into the school, found it entertaining to discuss the subject to the point of exhaustion. Sophie, on the other hand, didn't even want to _think_ about that night. Besides a rare and expensive gift from her father, her birthday had been a total disaster and the fallout even worse. Her father, who'd seemed so understanding when he'd found her in the tunnel, had punished her severely the next morning, practically putting an end to her social life and essentially imprisoning her within the castle walls. But she hadn't had the nerve to fight him. She knew she'd been stupid.

And then there was Cedric. He'd been worried for her when she didn't show up in the Great Hall that night after all the students were shut up in the dining hall, and relieved, he'd insisted on spending every free moment he had with her, and had taken to walking her to classes when he could and being unbearably sweet, making it all the more difficult for her to break up with him.

It was near the end of the first week of November that Sophie found herself sitting in the Common Room pretending to read her notes for Ancient Runes while listening to a group of assorted Gryffindors as they threw out one wild theory after another. Only Hermione, Harry's brainy friend and fellow third year, seemed as annoyed by the others as she was.

"Honestly," she heard the girl say to Harry and Ron, as they sat by the fire whispering to one another and listening as Leanne swore that Black was a vampire, "doesn't anyone _read_ around here?"

Sophie thought, with some amusement, that her father would be impressed that Granger had actually read _Hogwarts, A History_ from cover – to – cover, which it seemed from the way she was now quoting several pages. Then she heard a shocking fact. "According to the seventy – first chapter," she said rather knowingly, "Dark Creatures can't step foot in the castle unless a Headmaster grants them permission through a charm. Without the charm, one foot in the door and they would burst into flames. And personally, I can't see Dumbledore knowingly letting in _any_ dangerous creatures, let alone a blood – sucking Sirius Black!" She said this loud enough for Leanne to hear. The older girl stopped long enough to throw the third year a dirty look before resuming her rant. The younger girl's friends, Ron and Harry, seemed amused by the fifth year's reaction and chuckled, but Sophie could see Harry's smile didn't extend to his eyes. They looked haunted, as if he was burdened by something. It made her wonder if he knew that Sirius Black was after _him_.

But Sophie couldn't dwell on him. Despite her promise to McGonagall and her father to keep an eye on Harry, she just couldn't sit there anymore, trying to act like she belonged. The anxiety that she'd been living with since that night suddenly gripping her, she slipped out of the Common Room, careful not to attract any attention from her mates. She found herself out on the grounds moments later (though she technically wasn't supposed to be there), staring up at the castle in fearful awe. Even the very building she considered a second home was a danger to her. She couldn't bring herself to go back inside, even though she'd forgotten to grab her cloak. Cold and depressed, she turned towards the Quidditch pitch and set off alone.

When she reached the large field, she climbed into the stands and stared out at the deserted pitch, her mind buzzing with doubt. No matter how many times she went over it, she couldn't explain why she'd partially transformed that night. She'd been frightened, that she knew, and Black had threatened her, which had riled her up (arousing her lycanthropic instincts), but nothing like that had ever happened before. _It has to be the Wolfsbane Potion_, she concluded. The first time she took the potion, she'd found herself clear – headed, aware and firmly in control of her animal instincts. She'd kept her human mind intact but also felt the clarity that came with her transformations. But this only lasted a few hours. She had woken up twice, on the floor of the secret room that the headmaster had set aside for her, bleary – eyed, forgetful and feeling like she'd been run over by a herd of centaurs. She found the experience depressing and wasn't looking forward to the next one only a few days away.

Deep in thought, she didn't notice Professor Snape walking towards her.

"Miss Lupin," his voice cut through her thoughts, causing her to jump slightly, startled. "What do you think you're doing here?"

She wondered if all the professors had been informed of her punishment, then noticed the Slytherin Quidditch team taking to the field.

"Nothing," she said bluntly, trying to avoid his eyes. She knew his stare was more than just an intimidation tactic.

"Am I to understand that you're here by accident," he asked haughtily, "or perhaps you're here to spy for your little _friends_?"

_Spy?_ She quickly realized what he meant. The Slytherins were to play the Gryffindors in a week.

"No, _sir_," she answered dryly, "I'm _not_." She really did loathe him.

"Then get back to your Tower," he snapped loudly as the Slytherin team snickered behind him, "and don't let me catch you out here again!" He leaned in a little closer as she stood and whispered, "Perhaps the thought of a murderer loose on the grounds doesn't frighten some_thing_ like you, but it doesn't mean you can disregard the rules and wander around alone. I better not catch you out of bounds again." His black beady eyes flashed triumphantly at her and he turned and stalked away to join the team on the pitch. The Slytherins stood watching in a line as she came down the stands and made her way back across the grass. They jeered and taunted her as she passed and Snape, smiling devilishly, didn't attempt to stop them.

"Think you can do what you like just 'cause your daddy's a teacher?"

"Oi, Lupin! Scurry back!"

"Tell your mates they're toast!"

"That's enough," she heard Snape say behind her, "Gather round…"

She stalked off around a clump of bushes, stopping only when she was far enough away that she couldn't hear Snape's sneering, oily voice anymore.

_Bastard! Git! Complete and utter arsehole_! She was so angry, that as she thought of every insult she could muster, her hands began to shake. She tried to calm herself down, preparing to go back into the castle and up to her dorm before Snape found her hiding spot. She took a breath, which always calmed her down and closed her eyes, trying to bury the feelings the Potions professor had stirred up. As she took another breath, the fine hairs on her arms prickled and she was instantly aware that she was being watched. She blinked her eyes open and caught sight of two pale orbs reflecting the late afternoon sun, hidden in the trees beyond Hagrid's tiny cottage. The pair of eyes watched her keenly, the large black body that owned them well – hidden in the shadows. But those eyes knew she could see them. Yet, they didn't move or disappear. They continued to watch her and, despite feeling exposed, she stared back. She stood there for what seemed a long time, staring down the Animagus with steely resolve. Then, gathering herself, she turned and walked away.

* * *

Remus stared at the letter in his hand, his hazel eyes skimming the page over and over. It was summer, his last as a Hogwarts student. Beyond all expectation, beyond his wildest dreams, he was set to enter his seventh and final year at the school of witchcraft and wizardry and he knew he should be happy, proud, but he wasn't. 

During the first full moon after his seventeenth birthday, Sirius, for reasons Remus still couldn't fathom, had "pranked" Severus Snape on his own, and Remus' secret had been exposed to the one person who would surely spread it through the school. Miraculously, Severus hadn't. Thanks to James' quick – thinking and Dumbledore's intervention, the nosy Slytherin was saved from the wolf and Remus was saved from the truth. Unfortunately, his friendship with Sirius wasn't so lucky.

Remus was angry with him and the whole school had noticed (the blue and purple swollen eye that Sirius was sporting for days after may have caught their attention). There were rumours flying that Sirius had betrayed Remus in some way (they were right), that Remus had attacked him muggle – style (he had) and that the '_Golden Gryffindor Foursome'_ (as they were scathingly called by Slytherins) was now in shambles (right again).

Since '_The Incident_' (as Peter had dubbed it in an attempt to lessen the gravity), the four mates had been torn apart, with James and Peter desperately trying to pull them back together. But the friendship that had existed between the 'werewolf' and the 'pureblood' seemed doomed. At least that's how Remus had seen it at the end of term. He'd left his sixth year depressed and minus a friend. Despite that, he'd read every letter Sirius had written him over the summer, marveling at the way his thoughtless mate went from apology to exasperation in a sentence. If it didn't still hurt so much, he would have found it comical.

But the letter he held in his hand wasn't from one of his mates and it wasn't from Sirius, either. It was from Eris and it made him queasy every time he read it. Yet still, he read it one last time.

_My dearest Remus,_

_I don't know how to tell you this, but I am moving away. My parents think I'm not "living up to my potential" at Hogwarts and have enrolled me at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic for my final school year. It's in France; so far away that we won't be able to see each other. I know this comes as a shock, it does to me as well, but there is nothing I can do. I have to go. I only wish I could have told you in person, saw you one last time, to say goodbye._

_I'll be leaving soon for France before starting in the fall. I think it's best if you forget about me._

_Good luck next year,_

_Eris_

The note was dated exactly one week ago, its curly, fat letters in the corner already torn from pulling the note out of the envelope repeatedly. When he'd received it, his heart, already tender from his row with Sirius, had been pummeled. It wasn't just that Eris, his girfriend (and possibly, he thought with sadness, the love of his life), was moving away to another country, it was the words that she'd chosen to use. There was no, _"I love you", "I'll miss you", "please don't forget me_" – only, _"it's for the best",_ _"forget about me", _and, _"good luck". _Yet still, when he'd read it the first time, the only words that he'd noticed were, "_I only wish I could have told you in person, saw you one last time…._" Those had been the words that had spurred him to act out of character and rush off without a second thought to London to say goodbye. Those were the words that stood out glaringly as false, as he read them over now.

He'd shown up on her doorstep the afternoon he'd received the letter, nervous, anxious and full of emotion. He'd rung the bell and waited until a young house elf answered and led him into an elegant parlour while he summoned Eris from her room.

Remus had been a little surprised by the décor of the old house, which was large enough to be a mansion but didn't look it from the street. The parlour was dark, with silver leaf wallpaper and dark purple drapes that pooled onto the floor in a soft nest of velvet. The furniture was heavy, ebony stained wood, carved with intricate patterns that on closer inspection, turned out to be the family crest. He noticed, with some surprise, a coiled serpent in the center of the crest, reminding him instantly of the Black family home. When he looked around, his sharp eyes caught several other things that gave him an increasingly ominous feeling. There was a small painting, hanging over a grandiose fireplace that depicted the famous goblin beheading of 1785, and a small row of objects he didn't recognize but was sure were dark or illegal. As he walked over to take a closer look on the books on a shelf, the parlour door opened and Eris, looking nervous, came through.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted in one breath, without saying hello.

He found it strange. "I got your letter," he answered, noticing that she looked oddly flushed.

"Oh." She fidgeted with the ruffle her oversize blouse and stared down at the Persian rug.

"So you're really leaving?" he asked in a low voice. He was hoping it wouldn't crack with suppressed emotion.

She looked up. "I have to," she answered gravely.

"I don't understand," he began, finding the courage to ask, "How can your parents think pulling you out of Hogwarts before your last year is going to help you?"

"They don't." Her eyes suddenly grew colder. "They just want to get me away from _you_."

His heart stopped. "What?"

"They know," she said in a dull voice. "_I_ know."

He felt a wave of dread hit him squarely in the chest.

"Don't _pretend_ you don't know what I mean," she said in a scathing tone when he didn't respond.

He didn't know what to say. Questions rushed through his head like a runaway train; so many he couldn't think clearly. "How…?" was all that escaped his lips.

She scoffed and shook her head, as if the question was ridiculous. "Does it matter?" she asked. He could hear the anger in her tone. "You lied to me!"

"I didn't –"

"YOU DID!" she yelled standing in the same spot where she'd stopped upon entering. "Every time you pretended to be ill, every time you told me you loved me…" Her voice died away as tears welled in her eyes and panic buzzed in his brain.

"I'm sorry – "

"You're sorry?!" Tears were trickling down her cheeks now. "I thought we might have a future, I thought we would have – " She stopped abruptly. Remus wanted to know what she was going to say.

"I didn't…" – the words stuck in his throat – "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"WELL YOU DID! YOU HURT US BOTH!" She looked startled for a second but it quickly left her face. Remus wondered if he'd imagined it. "Get out!" she said suddenly.

"Wait," he cried desperately, his jarred mind finally whirring back into action, "If you didn't want to see me, why… why did write the letter?" It didn't make any sense.

She looked anguished for a moment. "My parents made me write it," she said matter - of - fact. "They didn't want you getting angry – "

"— Coming after you," he finished, finally cottoning to the reason behind her contradictory actions. Her set face told him he was right. "They're afraid of me," he added, more to himself than to her. Suddenly, Sirius' warnings about her family came to mind.

She nodded. "Well, you _are_ a werewolf, aren't you?" she accused. Her scathing tone was like a dagger in his chest. His mate's voice was ringing in his head.

"Yes." He felt deflated as he finally admitted the truth.

"You _disgust _me," she seethed, an ugly look on her face. Remus felt the air go out of his lungs. She tore the door open and stepped aside. "Get out before my parents get home. If they find you here…"

Her voice faltered, but she didn't need to say anymore. Remus looked back towards the books on the shelf he was about to examine right before she came in, instinctively looking away from her malicious, accusing glare. His eyes fell on the spine of a thick book and the familiar title gave him a jolt. He turned and walked past her, noticing how she stepped away from the door awkwardly as he approached, as if she couldn't stomach to even be near him. He strode out the front door and down the front steps, hearing the door slam behind him, the sound thundering in his ear like the rapid beating of his broken heart.

As he walked down the busy London street, struggling with his emotions, he didn't dare slow down or stop, afraid that if he did, he wouldn't be able to go on. And he knew he needed to. He needed to walk away.

* * *

So now you know how they broke up... only Remus didn't know why... Kind of abrupt, I know, but I am jumping back and forth in time...

The next chapter deals with the holidays - (Christmas in July! Yay!) It involves a girl, a gift and a set of twins...not necessarily in that order (and not necessarily at the same time!) BTW - don't hold me to this preview, the story keeps evolving as I write. But definitely, there will be Christmas!

Come back soon for chapter 14!


	14. Chapter 14: Let Me Sleep

**Hi!**

This chapter is self - explanatory. It's Christmas from three POV's. Fairly short. Simple.

Hope you like it. R & R!

**Disclaimer:** Am not JK, if I was then _Deathly Hallows_ would be out today! As it is, you'll just have to settle for another chapter of fanfic, none of which I own or profit from. So there.

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**Chapter 14:** Let Me Sleep 

Remus hardly knew when it happened but sooner than he imagined, the holiday spirit had arrived at Hogwarts. The bright decorations and excited buzz in the air that he remembered as a boy seemed to sweep over the castle and its staff and students. Even Professor Trelawny, who he was told with some amusement by the Arithmancy professor, never seemed to notice the time of year, had taken to walking around with bits of tinsel in her hair (though he wasn't so sure it was on purpose). The spirit of the season seemed to quell the subtle, ominous feeling that hung around the castle since Sirius' attempt to break into Gryffindor Tower. The only one who seemed not to be able to shake it was Harry – and with good reason. After his run – in with Dementors at the Hufflepuff v. Gryffindor Quidditch a month earlier, Harry seemed more preoccupied than ever.

It killed Remus to watch him, surrounded by people watching him at all hours of the day as he shuffled from one class to another; the heavy load on his shoulders weighing him down so that he seemed perpetually slouched. The one consolation that Remus had was the promise he'd made to his mates' son to teach him to fight off Dementors with lessons in the New Year. Though he hardly considered himself an expert in the matter (in fact, he felt he was ill – equipped for the job), he vowed to take it on because it made him feel like he was doing _something_ to help, and it made him feel a little less guilty.

Before Remus knew it, Christmas had come, the full moon preceding it by only a day. The morning of, as he lay in bed, his body aching and bruised but – thankfully – intact, he reveled in his daughter's attention for a little while before ordering her down to lunch with the small group of students and staff that had stayed at Hogwarts over holidays – a group that included Harry.

"I don't _want_ to leave you," she whined uncharacteristically. He wondered whether being confined to the castle for the last six weeks had anything to do with the change in behaviour; she usually wasn't so juvenile. It made him feel guilty to think about how he was punishing her for _his_ cowardice but he quickly pushed it aside. She had been foolish, after all, getting so close to Sirius when she knew what he was capable of. He just hoped the urge she'd had to take matters into her own hands would wane with every passing day.

"Get down to lunch, this instant!" he commanded without any real conviction (it was hard to muster up so close after the full moon). She pouted, which only reminded him of the tiny girl she used to be. He was very close to giving in and letting her stay but he knew he wouldn't be very good company, and since she looked well (_too well_, he noticed with mild concern and avid curiousity) and she'd always spent every holiday in the family cottage with him (and their meager meals), he wanted her to have her first real Christmas Feast.

Relenting, she finally agreed, only after promising to join him afterwards for their annual holiday tradition of the muggle game _Scrabble_ (with the letter tiles charmed to change and spell out random words). He was sure she secretly loathed the game but enjoyed their time together.

It made him happy, happier than he had been in months, to know his daughter, despite knowing his shameful secret, still wanted to spend time with him. Soon after she left, he closed his eyes, his mind whirring to a peaceful hum and allowing him to finally sleep.

**888888888888**

Sophie made her way back up to Gryffindor Tower after an interesting and enjoyable Christmas Feast of which she had never seen the likes. It had been an odd group at the single table but Sophie didn't mind; she was too caught up in all the delicious holiday fare to care that Snape was taking turns staring daggers between Harry and her when the Headmaster wasn't looking. She hadn't even minded being stuck next to the only Slytherin student, a stuck – up sixth year, who, despite his looks and apparent "_good breeding_", had a habit of sucking his teeth. It was a testament to how overwhelmed she felt by the unimaginable Feast that she didn't let it bother her.

Afterwards, she found herself walking back to the Common Room just behind Harry and Ron as they chatted eagerly. Halfway back, they noticed her behind them.

"So, what's wrong with your father?" Ron, Fred and George's younger brother, asked. Harry looked a little scandalized and gave her a look as if to apologize for his mate's lack of tact.

"Like Dumbledore said," she answered breezily, referring to the brief conversation at lunch when Professor Trelawny (who she was sure knew about his lycanthropy – and hers), had asked after him, "He's ill."

"Yeah, but with what?" He seemed unaware he was being rude. Harry, though, wasn't.

"Probably the flu," Harry answered for her and then promptly changed the subject. "So, what do you reckon Snape has against us?" he asked, smirking. She knew the story – it was one of the many things her father had told her on their trip to Hogwarts back in September – but couldn't imagine that Harry knew.

"Brains, talent, good looks," she answered with a smile, as they approached the portrait hole, "Take your pick."

They entered the Common Room moments later, stepping through the portrait hole only after a drunken Sir Cadogan challenged each of them to a duel. Questions of her father and Snape, however, were quickly forgotten when Ron suddenly exclaimed, "Get it, Harry!" He then turned to Sophie and explained, "You've _got_ to see _this_!"

Harry retreated up to their shared dorm room and descended a moment later with a brand – new Firebolt in his hands.

"Merlin!" she exclaimed, as she stepped closer to get a better look. She wasn't much for Quidditch or brooms (despite being friends with half the team) but she knew enough to know that the broom Harry held in his hands was worth more than everything she and her father owned together. "Where'd you get it?" she asked, curious.

Harry's eyes seemed to lose some of their sparkle. As he opened his mouth to speak, Hermione hurried in, followed closely by Professor McGonagall.

Sophie witnessed what, if any of her mates had been there, would have been the end of the world, as their Head of House walked out of the Common Room minutes later with the confiscated Firebolt in her hands. Sophie retreated up to her dorm, unnoticed, as Harry and Ron tore into their well – meaning friend, who'd been worried that the broom, which had been sent anonymously, was from none other than Sirius Black. If _she_ hadn't suddenly realized who the unopened package with no note on her bed was from, she may have stayed to help defend the girl, but as it was, she couldn't help but wonder lay in the box and whether it, too, might hold some dark power.

She shut the door to her room firmly and approached the innocent – looking package warily, as if it was a smoking Howler about to explode. Should she open it? She didn't know, but something told her to do it. Listening to that irrational voice, she tore the brown wrapping as if was on fire and pulled the lid off a rectangular box. White tissue obscured what lay beneath, and for a moment, she pondered running for McGonagall and confessing her suspicions. But she didn't. Instead, summoning courage, she pulled off the soft, white paper and threw it aside.

"Oh, Merlin!" she cried as she looked down into the box.

Nestled in a cloud of tissue, folded neatly, with tags attached, was a brand – new dress. Though it looked ordinary, she knew from the tag that it was Madame Malkin's finest, most expensive dress she carried in her shop in Diagon Alley – the _Every Occasion, All – Figure Flatterer_, a charmed dress imported from France. It was made of thousands of strands of woven unicorn hair and was charmed so that it fit the wearer perfectly, changing colour, cut and style to suit any occasion. The dress, which was very expensive (almost as much as the Firebolt), was very hard to get. In fact, the only one left in London had been sitting in a glass display in _Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_ the last time she'd gone to Diagon Alley last summer.

She reached out a shaky hand and ran her fingers over the soft, silky fabric. She gasped as it changed colour before her eyes. It was now a brilliant ruby shade. She picked it up and held to her slender frame, her heart beating with anticipation. When nothing horrible happened (she wasn't sure _what_ she'd been expecting), she went to the full-length mirror by the bedroom door and stared at herself and the beautiful dress. She stood for a long time contemplating what to do next until, finally giving in, she tossed off her jeans and worn, black jumper and slipped the dress over her head.

At first it draped loosely around her, then something magical happened. It began to pinch and shape her body in several places simultaneously, cinching in at the waist to define it, pulling at the shoulders to straighten her stance, and lifting at the chest to give her cleavage (albeit, modestly covered) for the first time in her life. She looked at her reflection once more. The difference was incredible – she'd gone from a thin, gangly teenaged girl to a voluptuous woman. It didn't even look like her. She marveled at her reflection; she was almost, she thought, _beautiful_. The dress, she noticed while staring relentlessly, had even hidden her scars with lace – like ¾ length sleeves, and matching lace at the hem to disguise the jagged scars on her knees.

But as she stood admiring the girl in the mirror, a girl she barely recognized, an ominous feeling began to settle in the corners of her mind and creep to the forefront, so that all she could think about the look on her father's face if he knew. Suddenly, feeling dirty somehow, she tugged the dress off and threw it haphazardly back into the box. It turned back into the almost – formless white vestment it had been before her eyes and feeling like a curse had been lifted (though she knew it was just her guilt) she pulled the lid over the box once more and shoved it unceremoniously under her bed.

She sat on the rug by her bed for a long time, staring at the dark space under her bed, feeling it seep into her veins, darkening her mood. What did Black mean by it? He wanted to murder Potter (or so everyone thought), and sending him a cursed broom would surely do the trick. But her? He'd had plenty of opportunities to do her in but he'd never tried to hurt her. She couldn't believe he would try with an expensive dress. It was ridiculous.

As she contemplated the madman's reasoning behind the gift, a thought suddenly occurred to her. _What if Black wasn't trying to hurt Harry_, she asked herself, _What if Black…_ but she couldn't go on. There was no other reason for the man to be at Hogwarts other than revenge. _Was there?_ A soft, muffled sobbing through the walls broke her concentration. It was faint, and any other student – even in a deserted dorm – probably never would have heard it, but she could. She knew it must be Hermione.

She listened for a while to the crying girl, tears trickling down her own cheeks. She thought of past holidays, how they'd seemed so magical, her father always trying his best to make the most of the little they had. He always seemed to succeed, even when he was ill.

She pulled herself up from the floor, despite the urge to crawl into bed and sleep the rest of the day away, and threw her clothes back on, then, stopping in the corridor by the young girl's door to listen, she descended the stairs and made her way back to her father's office. She had promised him, and if it would make him happy to keep their tradition, she wouldn't let him down.

**888888888888**

Sirius curled up in the small opening below the large roots of an ancient tree, his shabby robes stuffed with old newspapers, an old blanket stolen from someone's garage in the muggle village nearby, his only protection against the bitter winter chill. The small fire he'd lit hours ago was out and he didn't have the energy to light it again. Without his wand – any wand – he would have to disengage himself from his tiny cubbyhole and do it by hand. He would have to move and lose what little warmth he had.

He thought about Harry, cozy and warm in the castle, his face probably lit up like a thousand fairy lights as he admired his brand – new Firebolt. The thought warmed him a little, enough to concentrate on the spell his old mate had taught him years ago. He imagined his mate's daughter, her eyes shining brightly as she looked upon the dress he'd sent her, and he pulled his hands from beneath the blanket and cupped them close to his face. He said the words in his head, over and over until a tiny spark suddenly flickered. It grew brighter then suddenly flamed up, almost singing the tip of his nose, but he didn't care. It had worked. The spell that Remus had taught him years ago had finally worked.

The small fire burned hot in the palms of his hands as he leaned over towards the pile of sticks in a clearing in the snow. The fire was crackling moments later and he was back in his cubbyhole, curled up like a hibernating bear. Transforming into his Animagus form, he found a comfortable position in his niche and settled in to sleep.

Despite being hungry and cold, and despite having to spend the holidays freezing in the forest, he preferred his new situation to being back in Azkaban – he was alive, he was free and, with his new ally – the ginger cat – he was that much closer to getting to Peter. The tiny ember of hope that had sprung up suddenly in his chest the night he pulled his half – frozen body from the North Sea, had grown and grown with each passing day, and despite his failure at Halloween, hope, now a raging fire in his chest, would not be dampened.

He closed his eyes, ready to sleep, ready to dream, ready for any opportunity to do what he felt sure he would – get the rat and save the boy.

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This chapter has to be my least favourite chapter so far... but I thought this was necessary to keep the flow of the story going... I really want to take my time with this story, not rush or force the action... and I think I'm ripping myself off, so if the beginning sounded familiar, sorry... Did I just make any sense? 

If you're wondering, the title is taken from a very obscure Pearl Jam song, and yes, it's to do with Christmas...

Coming Soon: the next chapter will be a total surprise, & not just because I'm too lazy to type anym...


	15. Chapter 15: Times Like These

This next chapter has come quite easily. It picks up the story several months later, after the Gryffindor v. Ravenclaw match... hope you like it...

**Disclaimer:** The Potterverse does _not _belong to me, just borrowing...

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**Chapter 15:** Times Like These 

"Stop when I say when."

"What?"

"Stop when I say _when_."

"This is ridiculous," said Remus, holding his wand aloft, a colour – changing spell flowing from his wand. It was pointed at a formerly bare wall in Sirius' – and now his – first apartment, his arm starting to ache as Sirius pondered every colour change that flowed from the wand onto the wall like a slowly turning kaleidoscope.

"This is _not_ ridiculous, mate," Sirius scolded, his intense grey eyes firmly fixed on the wall, "it's our first _real_ place, don't you want it to be perfect?"

Remus couldn't care less what colour the wall behind the sofa was, his arm was about to give.

"When."

Remus dropped his arm to his side and stared at the stretch of wall behind the black velvet – covered sofa (Sirius's). It was pink.

"_That's _the colour you want?" he asked, with raised eyebrows.

"Not that one, you git!" he said, squinting at the wall, "The one before it." He gave Remus a serious look and Remus had the urge to laugh, not only because his mate's expression was comical, but out of exhaustion as well.

He and Sirius had spent the day moving around furniture and fussing with every room in the flat so that it would look just as his mate imagined it in his head. Remus had indulged him partly because he was the one paying the larger portion of the rent (though Remus hated that it was so) but also because he knew how much the two – bedroom flat meant to Sirius. It was his first real home, something entirely his, that was _not_ associated to his parents in any way. It was also their first foray into adulthood after graduating Hogwarts only a few months' prior and Sirius wanted his home to reflect that "newfound maturity," as he called it. Remus found it curious he'd left decorating their "mature" flat until the day he moved in.

Lily, who had been present the day Sirius had uttered those words, had laughed uncontrollably for fifteen minutes, then asked him just what that looked like. Sirius, who only a few years before would have made a scathing, sarcastic comment to her, had invited her to be the first guest at the flat to see for herself. She had accepted.

Remus knew that the only reason he and Lily had become friends was because of him – him and Eris. That relationship, doomed from the start, had been the first thing to bring Sirius and Lily together – both determined to protect him – and their mutual love of James had been the thing that had cemented the unlikely friendship. Of course, neither Lily nor Sirius was aware that Remus knew about their pact. It had been Peter, with his characteristically big mouth, who'd let it slip shortly after Eris left Hogwarts (and Remus). Remus had taken the loss hard, but had been comforted by knowledge that his mates had always been there for him. He felt like they always would.

Sighing and raising his wand once more (he really wished Sirius would read sometimes, then _he_ would be the one performing the spell), he didn't notice James and Lily walk in.

"So that's what maturity looks like, eh?"

He turned to see James, his hair sticking up as usual, an enormous smile on his face. Lily, green eyes sparkling, stood beaming beside him.

"It was _his_ choice," he said, pointing at Sirius. His mate didn't seem to notice. He was too busy staring from Lily to James.

"Merlin!" he said, giving James a one – armed hug and kissing Lily on the cheek, "You two couldn't have waited until _after_ your visit to shag?"

Lily looked mortified for a moment, while James just looked confused. Remus could tell instantly that wasn't the reason the couple looked so happy.

"Actually," James answered, also beaming, "I've just asked Lily to marry me."

"And I've accepted," she added, holding out her hand. A large diamond sparkled on her delicate finger.

Remus felt a surge of happiness but wasn't fast enough to congratulate the couple before Sirius, whooping loudly, had descended on the pair in a flurry of dark hair and exuberance.

"That's great!" Sirius yelled as he pulled them both into a bone – crushing hug. He then reached out for Remus and promptly pulled him into the fray.

There was a genuine feeling of goodwill in the room. He managed to congratulate Lily with a hug and a smile between his two mates' loud voices, each booming more loudly over the other. It was hard to tell which one of them was happier.

"What's going on?" They all fell silent as Peter, looking weary, walked towards them. Remus could see the hurt in his eyes at being left out of the celebration, even though he didn't know what they were celebrating.

It had been Peter's constant complaint to Remus, who had become his confidant over the years when it came to the friendship the four of them shared, at feeling like he was the fourth wheel (and ever since Lily entered the picture during their last year at school, he felt even more cast aside). Remus felt immediately guilty.

"James and Lily are engaged," he answered quickly, desperately wanting to explain the scene and make Peter feel better. The look that flit across Peter's face before he turned on a smile told Remus that it hadn't worked.

As Peter congratulated the couple and Sirius and James resumed their talk of wedding plans (which Lily found highly amusing), Remus couldn't help wonder if anyone else had noticed the look, but there was no strained conversation, only beaming faces and hearty laughter.

Just as he wondered if he'd imagined it, he saw it again. It had come across Peter's face when James asked Sirius to be his best man. Remus had expected it – the two of them were practically brothers – but it seemed to give Peter even more to envy.

"That's great," he said unconvincingly, "But maybe I can throw you the bachelor party," he added hopefully.

"Are you daft?" Sirius exclaimed. "That's _my_ job, mate – the _Best Man_ – as in, _for the job_." He gave Peter a slap on the back and darted away to the kitchen for bottles of butterbeer to toast the happy couple.

Remus could see that Peter was on the verge of tears.

"Hey, Pete," he piped up, thinking quickly, "Why don't we go get some take – away, make this a proper celebration."

Peter nodded and James tried to thrust a wad of pound notes into his hand but he refused. He had offered, even though the few measly bills in his pocket were his last, and his pride would not let him accept his mate's money.

Soon he and Peter were alone, walking to the corner and the Chinese restaurant they had recently discovered in the neighbourhood.

"You okay?" he asked as he looked down at the sidewalk. He didn't dare look at Peter.

"Yeah," Peter said uncertainly, sniffling loudly. "It's just… Why is it never one of _us_?" He swiped a hand across his face as if wiping away tears.

Remus didn't know how to respond. He'd had this conversation with Peter many times but still, Peter couldn't get over the fact that James and Sirius had a special bond.

"They're like brothers, Pete," he began, inwardly sighing at having to repeat this conversation yet again, "I mean, the Potters practically adopted Sirius – "

"We're his mates, too!" he exclaimed, stopping mid – stride. Remus was forced to stop and look at him. His eyes were red and his cheeks were burning. Remus noted the look was different. He wasn't just hurt but angry as well.

"Yes, but they're _Padfoot _and_ Prongs_," he retorted, shaking his head out of frustration, "I mean even their nicknames rhyme."

He knew that to anyone else, his last statement would be perplexing, but Peter would understand just what he meant. James and Sirius had been joined at the hip since their first week at Hogwarts over seven years ago, and nothing – not girls or arguments, or even "The Incident" – had come between them. No matter what idiotic thing Sirius said or did, no matter how embarrassing James could be, they overlooked and forgave each other every time.

Peter looked at him with burning eyes but the intensity seemed to evaporate before his eyes. "Yeah," Peter relented, "I guess you're right, it's just… I don't know…" He started down the sidewalk once again, his head hung low.

They walked in silence the rest of the way.

"Listen," Remus said as they waited for their order (he could see that Peter was still feeling down), "We should be happy for Lily and James – "

"—I am!" he said defensively, "You don't think I am?"

"Of course, Pete," he said soothingly, a little surprised by his mate's reaction, "I just mean to say that we should focus on that, instead of who does what. We're all friends, we've all got to stick together, especially with all the darkness in our world…"

He didn't dare say anymore among the muggle diners. He didn't have to. Peter had recently lost an uncle to an unprovoked attack by a mysterious assailant in a mask. There were rumours of a dark force rising and people were starting to get frightened. Remus' own parents had been concerned enough by the murmurs among the wizarding community to ask him to reconsider moving out.

"You're right," Peter said after a moment of silence. He looked up at Remus, smiling weakly. "I mean, if you can get over what Sirius did to you, then I can forgive him, too."

Remus couldn't see how it was the same situation (or why Pete felt the need to forgive Sirius for anything) but didn't point it out to Peter. He didn't want to start an argument.

Walking back to the flat, food in hand, Peter seemed to be in a better mood. He chatted merrily about his new girlfriend, a Slytherin who was in her last year at Hogwarts. Remus had spoken to her only a handful of times but she seemed very nice, if a little boring. James and Sirius couldn't see why he insisted on dating a Slytherin, but after _his_ experience with Eris, Remus had pointed out to his mates that a House did not make the person. After that, they backed off Peter and begrudgingly welcomed his girlfriend into their circle.

"Now, if only you and Sirius would find girlfriends," Peter began but Remus, approaching the stairs to the flat, stopped at the foot of them.

"I don't think that's going to happen," he said firmly, "My life is much too complicated… and Sirius, well… I just can't see him settling on _one_ woman, you know."

Peter looked at him seriously. "That's too bad, mate," he responded, "You'd make a great father, you know."

Remus hadn't expected _that_ and was sure his face reflected his surprise.

"Well, that, or a great professor," he added. Remus could tell Peter was embarrassed.

"Thanks," he said, clapping his mate on the shoulder. He wanted to show Peter he needn't be. He appreciated the compliment.

Peter's spirits had been lifted and Remus felt it was worth his last few galleons to cheer his mate up. The walk had also had a positive effect on him as well. He could now see a future before him – James and Lily were getting married and would probably start a family, Peter was working at Gringott's, training to be a treasure seeker, Sirius was applying for the Auror program along with James, who'd already been accepted, and he, well, his future wasn't as clear as the others, but he truly felt for the first time that with his friends at his side, he would be all right.

**

* * *

**

Sirius sat among the bushes on the edge of his home for the last six months, waiting for the stands to fill with chattering, excited students and the Gryffindor v. Ravenclaw match to begin. The cold chill of winter was finally dissipating and he could smell the looming arrival of spring in the dirt.

The end of winter meant so many things at Hogwarts. Quidditch finals were looming nearer, the possibility of students wandering into the Forbidden Forest looking for a quiet place to shag now concerned him, and the fact that Peter had managed to elude him far too long was ever – present in his mind. Sirius was getting desperate, what with having to dodge horny students, negotiating with a cat and waiting for the perfect moment for his plan to come together. But it hadn't happened yet.

He crouched low as he spied Remus, alongside Minerva McGonagall, walking towards the pitch. It seemed he, too, was looking forward to seeing Harry play on the Firebolt for the first time. Sirius had known when he sent it that there was a possibility of it being confiscated and examined so he wasn't surprised when the cat communicated as much to him just after Christmas but he _was_ surprised that the girl's dress hadn't been taken as well. The cat, cunning and clever, had reported back to him that the dress, still in its box, was hidden beneath Sophie's bed. Sirius felt a pang of sadness when he'd heard, he wasn't even sure why.

The game began and soon he was caught up in the action. As he sat listening to the commentary, cheering Harry on in his head, the cat slunk up beside him, purring loudly, a piece of parchment in his mouth. Sirius, as Padfoot, couldn't take it from him, so the cat dropped it onto the grass beneath his snout. He looked down, confused, as he read a list of words off the slip of paper.

The cat nudged the parchment and meowed twice, then hissed, which Sirius somehow knew meant that it was a list of passwords to Gryffindor Tower. He couldn't believe it. Finally, the missing piece he'd been waiting for – a way into the rat's safe haven.

As he listened to the commentary of the match, his mind began to form a crude new plan.

**888888888888**

Sophie should have been sleeping. It was well past two in the morning and she had an early class in the morning but after the celebration in the Common Room (Gryffindor had won, of course), she'd settled into bed only after they were all chased up to their rooms by McGonagall, and drifted off to sleep within minutes. Then she had a dream.

She found herself alone in the woods, walking through increasingly rough terrain, barefoot, until she reached the middle of the forest. She knew she was being watched, she felt dozens of pairs of eyes on her but she couldn't see where they were. She could only feel that they were not quite human. Then, as fear began to creep up her spine, a man stepped from the shadows. It looked like Sirius Black, but the man had canine, almost wolfish features. He stepped towards her, she raised her wand, and as she did others stepped out into the dimming light coming through the thick canopy. They were women, children, men, old and young, all with great fangs and clawed hands, eyes burning yellow as they bared their teeth and ran at her.

She awoke with a start, her hands clenched tightly, beads of sweat dripping down the sides of her face. Looking around in the dark, she could just make out the outline of her dormmates, Alicia and Katie, asleep in their own beds. She sat up and realized the back of her nightgown was drenched with sweat and the palms of her hands stung terribly. She raised them to her face and gasped when she saw drops of blood dripping down her arms.

Alicia stirred. "What's going on?" she whispered, turning towards Sophie. She jumped out of bed and hid her hands in her sheets.

"Nothing," she whispered back, "Just remembered that I forgot my Potions essay in the library." She ducked down to her trunk and pulled out the first thing she could find. "I'm going to get it."

"Be careful," Alicia warned as she rolled over. "If Filch catches you…" She went back to sleep.

Sophie was glad that her roommate was too tired out by the Quidditch match to ask any more questions. She pulled off her nightgown and dabbed at her palms, noticing for the first time that they were marked like claws had raked over them. But it couldn't be. _How?_ she asked herself, but she already knew.

It wasn't the first time she'd partially transformed in her sleep. Since her birthday, she'd woken up twice, both times from a nightmare, to find the burning in her joints that was always triggered by the physical change that came with lycanthropy. It had unnerved her, enough to stop taking the Wolfsbane potion after the holidays. Instead, she would perform a vanishing spell, muttered under her breath as she brought the cup to her lips so that it only looked as if she was swallowing it down. This was the first time it had happened since then.

Wrapping her hands with strips of cloth pulled from the hem of her nightgown, Sophie pulled on her clothes – a pair of old, worn pajama bottoms that came to the ankles and a camisole she normally wore under jumpers – and quickly descended the steps to the Common Room. She didn't care what she looked like, if her scars were visible; she needed a first aid kit, with proper bandages and healing pastes, to tide her over until she could figure a way to hide the injury or go to Madame Pomfrey in the morning with a credible excuse.

She was rummaging through a small chest kept near the fireplace when a blood – curdling scream jolted her. She dropped the chest as she jumped up, a small bottle of thick potion spilling onto the carpet, her heart beating loudly in her ears at the sudden, unexpected noise. She instinctively turned towards the boys' dormitory stairs, where the scream had come from, and gasped loudly as Sirius Black descended them, a long silver knife in his hand.

* * *

A cliffie, sorry! I won't make you wait long (I hope)... The story is starting to shift and, I think, become interesting. I'll be veering away from canon soon, but there will still be little bits... 

**BTW**, the title is from a Foo Fighters' song, though if you notice, the very first line of the chapter is from another Foos song...

**Coming Soon:** Chapter 16 continues the same night... after his 'plan' goes wrong, Sirius must flee, but coming face - to - face with his old mate's daughter, he faces a tough decision...


	16. Chapter 16: Last Goodbye

I know, I know... I have been plagued by computer troubles, if that's an excuse...

R & R and tell me what you think...

Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. If I was, I'd be able to afford a new computer...

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**Chapter 16:** Last Goodbye

Of all the possibilities Sirius had imagined as he slipped into Hogwarts that night, his silver knife clenched between his canines, of all the obstacles he had foreseen – getting in undetected, prowling the corridors as Padfoot to the portrait that now guarded Gryffindor Tower unseen, transforming before he approached with the slip of parchment ready in his hand – the thought that he would come face – to – face with the one student who knew what he was, who was capable of taking him down herself, had never occurred to him. Yet, there she stood, Remus' daughter, staring at him across the Common Room, her eyes flashing curiously with both fear and revulsion as she stared at the killer in her midst – him.

In one swift moment, Sirius, aware that he needed to get out fast, hurled himself through the air, forgoing the last few steps and landed lightly on his feet, just steps away from her. Before her body had the chance to shift into action, his free hand was over her mouth, he was pulling her towards him as he simultaneously angled around her and the knife was at her side.

"Move," he urged.

He shuffled out of the portrait hole, her body resisting in his arms, and flattened himself and the girl into a small niche in the wall just as the portrait door closed. A moment later, Professor McGonagall strode past, pulling tartan robes over a nightdress, looking stern. He knew in a matter of minutes (the time it took for Harry's mate – the unfortunate owner of a treacherous rat – to relay that he had seen him) the whole school would be alerted and the search would begin.

Thinking fast, he pulled Remus' daughter down the corridor with him, down a flight of stairs, through another dimly lit corridor and stopped in front of the painting with the trolls in tutus that he'd always found so amusing as a boy. She stiffened in his arms as they walked past it three times in quick, little movements, thinking hard of a safe place to hide, and pushed her towards the door that appeared in the wall. "Open it," he whispered roughly and he moved his arm just enough for the girl to reach out a shaky – and, he noticed, bandaged – hand and turn the knob. He pushed through the half – open door and slammed it shut behind him with his foot, and finally let the girl go. She moved away from him into the room and he noticed, for the first time, what the secret room had become.

It was his turn to gasp in surprise.

**8888888**

Sophie twirled around, startled at the strangled cry of surprise. Black, his eyes wide, fathomless, were darting around the room. Behind him, where the door they had entered into the room she'd come to think of as her own had been, a great marble fireplace with a thick stone mantle jutted out of the wall, and above it, looming over them, was a large family portrait. The three figures within it smiled; a woman with dark hair and hazel eyes, a man, his eyes and hair equally dark, and a boy with a lopsided grin, his hair as unkempt as his father's, his eyes the same shade as his mother's. The resemblance hit Sophie at once. It was like looking at Harry Potter, except for the eyes. _It must_, she thought suddenly, _be James_. _Oh Merlin._

She realized that Black had moved further into the room and turned to watch him, aware that the knife was still in his hand. He seemed to forget momentarily that she was there as, his back turned, he slid his hand lovingly over the smooth mahogany surface of the oversize antique desk at the other end of the cozy room. His hunched frame, his slow, reverent movements, made her sigh in disgust and without thinking, she blurted accusingly, "This is sick."

He jerked around and the look of pain in his eyes, twisting his face into a grotesque mask, was so intense, so shocking, so thoroughly confusing that Sophie stumbled back and landed with a muffled thud onto the plush carpet underfoot. He made to move towards her, as if to help her up and, utterly bewildered by his actions, she scrambled up and rushed around behind the ivory – coloured chaise by the fireplace, trying to keep as much physical distance between them as possible. The pained look receded and the fathomless expression returned. His pale grey eyes looking out from the skull – like face and disheveled form was unnerving.

"Sit down," he croaked. He pointed at the chaise with the blade of the knife that was still gripped firmly in his skeleton – like hand. She eyed it fearfully and did not move.

He glanced down at the knife and back at her, seeming to only just realize why she was hesitating. "If I wanted to kill you, I'd have already done it," he said as if stating a fact.

She wanted to run but knew there was no way out. Gripping the back of the chaise tightly as if by instinct, she still didn't move.

"I could have cut your throat in the Common Room," he continued as if trying to comfort her. A grimace twisted on his face as he stared at her. "Of course," he said hoarsely, "you could have just ripped out my throat." He tucked the knife slowly into his robes. "Sit," he commanded once more.

Everything was battling inside her. The lycan part of her, swift and cunning, was already formulating ways to overpower him, force him to let her out, but the sensible side told her not to make things worse. However bad the situation seemed now (and being held hostage in a secret room by an escaped mass murderer who happened to know she was a werewolf was pretty bad), she knew things could be worse. He could be caught, reveal her secret and ruin her father.

Taking hold of herself, she forced her legs to carry her around the chaise and sat down, pressing herself into the corner of the backrest, her eyes never leaving Black. He strode over to the dark leather wingback chair opposite her and seemed to crumple into it as he sat down.

They sat in silence for a while, his pale eyes staring at her, moving over the room, then settling on her again. "You're bleeding," he said suddenly.

She looked down, feeling the sting of her self – inflicted wounds for the first time since the Common Room, as she realized her makeshift bandages were soaked through.

He got up and closed the distance between them. "Hold out your hands," he commanded.

She hesitated, then, not knowing why, did as she was told. She heard him murmur under his breath as he looked towards the desk. A wand, short and polished, appeared on the edge. He mumbled again and the wand flew gently through the room and fell into his outstretched hand. He knelt down in front of her, tapped the strips of cotton she had torn from her nightdress and they unwound from her hands and fell to her lap. Then he held the wand close to each wound and cleaned them with a spell. She flinched a little at the sudden, deep stinging sensation and he glanced up, locking eyes with hers just for a second, then looked down and continued to heal her hands.

Up close, he looked less frightening, more human, sadder. His hair – long, dark and matted – had a brown film over it and twigs and leaves were settled there, reminding her of the forest floor. He had an odour, but she could still sense his familiar scent underneath the stench. It was strong, clean, and reminded her of the scent of the woods near her home after a cool rain. It was, she found, oddly comforting. Before she realized, he was staring up into her face once again. She looked down and saw the palms of her hands, faint lines barely visible where the deep gashes had only just been.

"You did that to yourself," he stated, moving back to the chair and settling down, the short polished wand in his hand.

She didn't answer. He had been at the wrong end of her claws back in October. She doubted he'd forgotten what she'd done.

He seemed not to care if she answered as his eyes roamed over her. She was suddenly aware that some of her scars, though faint for the most part, were visible in her camisole and too – shorts pajama bottoms. Feeling exposed, she drew up her legs to her chest, resting bare feet on the chaise and folded her arms over her knees.

He let out what sounded like a laugh. "Sit tight," he said with amusement, then, "when it's safe to leave, I'll let you go."

**8888888**

"What is this room?"

The question, though barely a whisper, broke the silence of an hour and startled Sirius out of his vengeful thoughts.

"Obvious, isn't it?" he replied tersely, looking away. He couldn't bring himself to look into the eyes that had the same searching expression her father had always given him as a boy.

"The Potters' private study," she answered softly as if not sure she should say it out loud.

He made to effort to acknowledge her clever deduction.

"Why this room?" she asked after another long silence.

He glanced at the clock, not willing to answer. Time seemed to be moving more slowly holed up in this room.

"You ask too many questions," he said harshly, hoping to silence her, "You're just like your mother." The last statement had an unintended tone of disgust that did not go unnoticed by the girl. She set her jaw and furrowed her brow and Sirius could see a flash of the wolf in her hazel eyes.

"How the hell would you know?" she asked.

He could hear the struggle to control her anger in her tone. He'd obviously hit a nerve.

Again, he didn't answer, but moved his eyes up to the bookcases lining the walls just for something to do. He didn't have the will or energy to argue. It had left him the moment he realized Peter had eluded him once more. The young Weasley boy's face, contorted in fear and surprise, hadn't helped. He felt a pain of guilt but it was overpowered by the anger he'd been carrying for years at being branded a killer. The boy's eyes had seemed to silently accuse him, ringing louder in his ears than his panicked screams. Remus' daughter had the same look in her hauntingly familiar eyes.

Silence fell over the pair of them once more and after another hour the girl began to nod off. Sirius could see her struggling to stay awake but soon she was curled up in the corner of the chaise, looking deceptively harmless as she slept. He silently cursed her; now that he didn't have her blazing eyes staring daggers, the questions she longed to ask flashing in the amber orbs, he was left to watch the clock and wait for the sign that all was safe. He was left in the room that, through its perfect mimicry of Mr. Potter's favourite room, now tortured him with old memories.

* * *

Sirius pushed the door open gently and walked hesitatingly into the room. James sat in his father's chair behind the great mahogany desk, holding his father's golden quill in his hand.

"Prongs?"

James looked up, seeming to notice Sirius for the first time even though he was standing right beside him. His eyes were watery behind his glasses.

"Look, mate," he began, "we need to go. They're waiting."

James placed the quill softly back on the desk. "I can't do it," he said, his voice strained with grief.

Pushing aside his own grief, Sirius placed a hand on his mate's shoulder and said, "Yes you can."

He felt for James, losing his parents so close together, but now wasn't the time to shut down. Downstairs, a small group of his parents' closest friends and his own mates, including Lily and a few professors from Hogwarts, were waiting to Disapparate together to the cemetery to bid Honorus and Charlene Potter a final farewell.

They'd died of dragon pox just a few days earlier; James' father succumbing to the disease only after learning his wife had passed. Sirius had been there with James at their bedsides for weeks. He'd tried desperately to be his mate's rock even though, he too, felt like he was losing his parents. Unlike his own parents, the Potters had treated him with dignity and respect and had embraced him like a son. He'd never felt as loved in sixteen years under his parents' care than he had in the few months he'd lived with the Potters before he became of age and inherited his uncle Alphard's fortune.

"Prongs," he said, trying to sound firm, "You need to get up, for your parents. You need to say goodbye."

The pained expression in James' eyes mirrored his own feelings. He, too, wished fervently that he could go down the hall to his old room, curl up under the covers and sleep, awakening only when the hollow ache in his chest was gone, but he knew that no length of time in slumber would take away the feeling. They were gone and there was nothing they could do to make it better.

"Hey," he said suddenly, pushing the thought away; he wouldn't allow himself to indulge in his grief just yet. "Remember the time, after I ran away from home and my parents came looking for me?"

James looked thoughtful. "You were afraid your parents would drag you back and my father sent you up here to wait while he talked to your father in the sitting room."

"You sat up here with me," he continued, "distracted me with details of your date with that Hufflepuff a year ahead of us." He couldn't help but smile at the memory.

"Don't remind me," James groaned regretfully, "Lily found out and wouldn't even look at me for a month."

"As I said back then, mate, she was already in love with you but didn't know it."

His words put a smile on James' face, if only for a moment.

"Your father was incredible that night, how he stood up to mine and then invited me to live with your family just like that… I'll always be grateful to him for standing up for me."

"He _was_ great," James agreed sadly.

"And your mum, how she used to fuss over me like I was her own, and she'd bake for us and let us eat anywhere in the house we wanted…"

James gave him an amused look, but seemed to understand why that was important to Sirius. Sirius had told him what it was like to live in the Black family mansion.

"Like that time we sat _there_," James pointed to the hearth, "stuffing our faces with coconut cream pie and you told me all about your night with that pretty muggle you met in the city, and my father walked in – "

"Yeah," Sirius interrupted, "and instead of scolding us, he started in on the story about his first time…"

James laughed. "Cured us of sharing details after that," he said.

"Speak for yourself, mate," Sirius replied, chuckling at the memory.

They fell silent.

"They're gone," Sirius said softly after a while, "but they'll always live as long as we don't forget them, as long as we remember stuff like this."

James looked at him and a small smile flit across his face.

"Let's go," Sirius urged gently, "They deserve a proper goodbye."

* * *

Sophie stirred, jolting Sirius out of his silent daze. He looked up at the clock, ticking softly in the corner, and realized it was almost sunrise. Then he noticed the fireplace was gone. It could only mean one thing.

It was time to go.

**8888888**

Sophie felt bony fingers poking her in the shoulder.

"Wake up," a hoarse voice croaked, "It's time to go."

She opened her eyes and almost jumped at the sight of Sirius Black, looking down at her with nervous eyes.

"Come on," he urged, pulling her up.

She dropped her feet to the floor and almost tumbled over as he dragged to a door where the fireplace had been. He stopped abruptly as he reached for the knob and rounded on her, pushing her up against the wall.

"I don't have to gag you, do I?" he asked. His face was inches from hers and his hot, stale breath tickled her cheek.

"No," she answered.

"Good."

He pulled the door open a crack and pushed her towards it. "Check," he grunted.

She poked her head out the door and looked around at the deserted corridor. It was still fairly dark, but an orange glow was coming through a window at the other end. She knew it would only be a matter of time before the early risers were wandering the halls.

Turning to face him, she urged him forward, eager, now that she was close to freedom, to get him out of the castle undetected. Though he hadn't voiced it, she'd recognized the unspoken threat in his eyes. It told her the only way she and her father would be safe would be to cooperate.

"Stop." His mouth was close to her ear as they creeped down the hall and he suddenly pulled her into the shadow of a suit of armour.

She hadn't heard a sound and was wondering why he'd hidden when a pair of boys who she recognized as the sixth year Slytherin from Christmas and a fifth year Hufflepuff whose name she'd forgotten, crept out from a cloakroom, holding hands. Before she had a chance to register the disheveled clothes and looks of satisfaction and guilt on their faces, they disappeared around the corner.

Any other time, it would have been a revelation, but now, she could care less what the boys were up to, she just wanted to get Black out and get back to her dorm before anyone realized she was gone. _Oh Merlin_, she thought suddenly, _what if they noticed I wasn't there?_ Before she realized they were moving, Black had pushed her down another corridor.

"Wait," he whispered, pulling her back, "We're here."

They were standing in front of the statue of the One – Eyed Witch, and instantly she knew how he'd gotten in. Fred and George, knowing her well enough to know that she could keep a secret, had shown her, as well as Lee Jordan, the tunnel to Honeydukes once before.

He tapped the hump with a bony finger and the small crevice hidden behind the ugly statue opened up. If he had been a regular man, there was no way he would have fit but being as malnourished as he was, he slipped in easily. She watched as he began to descend and a sudden urge seized her.

"Why?" she breathed but he had heard. He stepped out a little and looked at her. "Why did you do it?" She _had_ to know.

His pale eyes looked haunted once more. "I didn't," he whispered and before she had a chance to respond, he slid out of sight, the hump moved back and the crevice had disappeared.

She was left in the corridor, alone, staring at the witch, her mind trying to figure what he'd meant. _Surely_, she thought, _he couldn't mean_… but before she had the chance to finish the thought an oily voice broke the silence, causing her to jump and spin around.

"Miss Lupin, _what_ in Merlin's name do you _think_ you're doing?"

* * *

Another cliffie, I'm sorry... hopefully this one will come quicker now that my computer seems to be cooperating... the title is a Jeff Buckley song and only refers to the flashback, if that makes any sense... 

**Coming Soon:** Chapter 17, in which Sophie is caught, Dumbledore is summoned, detention looms menacingly, and yet all that is the least of her problems...


	17. Chapter 17

This chapter continues exactly where the other left off...

**Disclaimer:** The usual...

* * *

**Chapter 17**

_Oh. Shite._

Sophie twirled around, the words reverberating over and over in her head as she looked into the black, beady eyes of Professor Snape. His eyes narrowed and she had the distinct impression he knew what she was thinking.

"I'll ask you again, _Miss Lupin_," he said slowly with disdain, "why are you out of bounds at _this hour_?"

She racked her brain for a credible excuse, knowing all the while nothing she could say would get her out of trouble with Snape. But at least he hadn't found her a minute earlier. Considering the circumstances, she was at least grateful for that.

Taking his probing eyes off her, he rounded at a sudden noise, his black cloak billowing slightly at the swift movement, reminding her of the black mast of a pirate ship waving in the wind, an image ingrained in her mind from a book from childhood. Filch the caretaker shuffled towards them, clutching a struggling boy in each of his old, gnarled hands. "Professor," he panted eagerly, "I got two more!"

Snape looked displeased as the sixth year Slytherin prefect, Tristan Cates, was dragged towards them on one side, Jimmy McGiffert, a fourth year Hufflepuff, on the other. "Filch," he said crossly, "will you stop manhandling the prefect." Then he turned to the Slytherin. "Tristan," he demanded sternly, "explain yourself."

"I was just escorting this boy back to his dorm," Cates said haughtily, "I caught him wandering the south wing corridor on the second floor." The sixth year Slytherin gave an offended sneer so convincing, if Sophie hadn't seen him earlier, sneaking out from a broom closet holding the same Hufflepuff's hand and smoothing over his robes, she might have believed him.

"So you were patrolling?" Snape asked.

The Slytherin gave a tiny nod, as Filch jumped in. "Likely story," he grumbled, looking cross. Sophie couldn't help but smirk. _If they only knew_, she thought wryly.

"Mr. Filch," Snape said in an oily, bullying tone (the caretaker seemed to shrink from the professor as he addressed him), "if I want your opinion, I'll ask for it." Filch looked like he had swallowed his tongue. "Escort this boy back to Hufflepuff house," Snape continued, "I will expect you, _McGiffert_," he added in the same tone, "at eight p.m. _sharp_ for detention."

The Hufflepuff lowered his gaze and shook his head. "Yes, sir," he squeaked. Sophie felt sorry for him – it was obvious to Sophie that he was being used by Cates.

As Filch and Jimmy shuffled away, Snape turned to Cates. "Tristan, I take it you were unaware that Sirius Black was spotted in the castle again last night." The look on the Slytherin's face told them he hadn't. "Very well, then," Snape continued, "Go back to the dungeons, classes will be starting in a few hours." The Slytherin looked shocked for a second, but it passed quickly and he composed himself. Sophie knew she wasn't going to get off as easily, and she stared daggers at Cates as he simpered, uttered a "yes, sir," and turned to leave.

"Now, _Miss Lupin_," Snape hissed, rounding on her, "I believe the headmaster – and your father – would be very interested to know that you have no regard for the rules."

Sophie, the ordeal with Sirius Black momentarily forgotten, started to protest, but Snape quickly cut her off.

"Your poor, sickly father seems to have enough to worry about, what with an old murderous mate on the loose and, of course, there's always the _moon_ – "

She felt a low growl building up in indignation, but not wanting to give Snape the satisfaction of getting a reaction from her, she suppressed it. Silently seething, she turned around and walked down the corridor towards Dumbledore's office, trying to hide her anger.

"I find it rather curious," he went on in a low tone as they rounded a corner, the familiar gargoyle coming closer with each step, "that it doesn't effect _you_ in quite the same way."

Ignoring his comment, her thoughts suddenly turned to her father. He was about to be roused from his room after possibly one of the most stressful nights in his life, and no excuse, no explanation would fool him. He would know that she had been with Sirius Black. The only question was, what would he do once he knew that his old murderous mate had taken her hostage?

_Shite._

**8888888**

"Professor Lupin?"

Dumbledore's familiar voice roused Remus from a light slumber. He opened his eyes slowly, the need for sleep keeping him firmly planted on his bed. He was still fully dressed, having gotten to bed only a few hours earlier after searching the castle for Sirius along with the rest of the staff.

"Professor Lupin?"

Remus snapped up suddenly, remembering the events of the night before and he clambered over to the fireplace where the headmaster's genial face was floating amid green flames.

"Sorry to wake you, Remus," he said, "but your presence is required in my office." The way he worded it, more formally than he usually spoke to him, told Remus there were others present in the headmaster's office. He immediately felt a pang of anxiety.

"I'll be right there," he managed to croak out as his mind began to wander. _What if he knows?_ he thought. _What if they caught Sirius and he told them I was covering for him?_

"We'll be waiting," Dumbledore answered.

Remus walked over to the small bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, wondering exactly _who_ was waiting with the headmaster in his office. _What if it's the Ministry? Someone from Magical Law Enforcement, or worse,_ he thought, panicking, w_hat if they're from the DCMC?_ He needed to be alert, he needed to have his wits about him and he knew it would be impossible if he let his nerves get the better of him. He took a deep breath, walked back over to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fire. Stepping in, he closed his eyes and said clearly, "Headmaster's office," opening his eyes as his feet hit the stone hearth in the large round room.

"Aw, that was awfully quick," Dumbledore said, smiling from behind his desk, "Please, come in." He gestured towards the chairs in front of his desk, but Remus, who had half – expected to see a room full of wizards, stood by the fireplace wearily.

"You wanted a word?" he asked coolly, noticing Severus hovering in a corner. He looked pleased with himself, which Remus knew, didn't bode well for him.

Before Dumbledore could answer, Snape spoke up. "It seems that breaking rules runs in the family," he said, his voice almost maliciously gleeful.

It was at that moment that Remus realized that there was someone else in the room. The scent was unmistakable, how he hadn't noticed it before he could only blame on his anxiety and lack of sleep.

"Sophie?"

He stepped towards the chairs, feeling her presence before he saw her and his eyes fell upon his daughter, her face set like stone, her eyes fixed at a spot on the floor.

"What's this about?"

"Professor Snape caught Sophie out of bounds just before sunrise," Dumbledore answered, his tone serious, "in the corridor on the third floor, by the statue of the one – eyed witch."

Remus stomach lurched as he heard the words the headmaster spoke and simultaneously noticed something wholly disconcerting. It was a lingering scent, a scent only he and his daughter could detect, their animal instincts honed to near perfection. It was the scent of Sirius Black. Everthing suddenly made sense -- his daughter in the corridors at dawn, standing by the entrance to the only passage into Hogwarts that wasn't being guarded, Sirius' quick disappearance the night before -- the only question was, had Sophie willingly helped him elude capture or had he forced her somehow? He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Headmaster," he said, clearing his throat, "I ask that you let me deal with this -- as a father."

Dumbledore seemed ready to agree, but Snape jumped in.

"Perhaps it would be wiser to let someone else dole out her punishment, _Lupin_," he sneered, "someone with a much firmer hand."

Before Remus could retort, Dumbledore answered for him. "I think, in this case, it's best to let Remus speak with his daughter. Of course," he continued, anticipating the Potions master's next statement, "I'll leave the matter of detention up to your discretion."

Remus watched as Snape struggled to answer, his cold, calculating eyes darting from Dumbledore to Sophie and back to him. "I don't fancy wasting my time," he said, "but if I find Miss Lupin stepping out of line again, I won't have any qualms about a proper punishment." Remus knew his last statement was more for the benefit of Sophie than anyone else. He didn't want to seem like he had no authority in front of a student.

All three men agreed as Sophie, quiet and still, finally looked up from the floor. Remus found he couldn't quite look at her. He was tired, frustrated and he just couldn't deal with anything more. A few minutes later, he led his daughter out of the Headmaster's office and back to Gryffindor Tower, stopping only when they approached the portrait.

"Go straight to your room," he said with a severity he rarely ever used on her, "I want to see you at breakfast with everyone else. No skiving off classes, either."

She looked hurt, and tried to speak. "I'm sorry -- " she began.

"I don't want to hear it!" he growled, causing her to jump at his sudden ferocity. He even shocked himself. "I have just one question," he demanded a little more calmly. She looked at him expectantly, and he could see fear in her eyes. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," she whispered.

They stood in silence.

"Get some rest," he said suddenly, breaking the heavy feeling between them, and with that, he turned around and walked away.

* * *

Okay, first of all, this chapter has been rewritten a few times... I couldn't decide where to pick the story up... I think it shows,too... 

Anyway, the next chapter will, hopefully, be more focused -- definitely less filler...

**Coming Soon** - the next chapter where stuff happens and continues to happen... teehee!... no, seriously, I've introduced a couple of characters that will impact Sophie's life in disturbing ways... or not - I'm still debating...


	18. Chapter 18: Like Eating Glass

Hi!

I just, this minute, finished writing this chapter and I had to post it before changing anything else... I drive myself nuts that way. The story takes a bit of a left turn at this point (which I _did_ warn you would happen), and the _AU_ is emphasized here... please tell me what you think.

**Warnings:** there is some sexual violence in this chapter, so be warned... I tried to make it minimal, but the subject is dark and, just to let you know, will be getting darker in future chapters. But this is an M - rated story, so...

**Disclaimer:** Anyhing you recognize belongs to someone else. She's really rich, so I have to say that.

* * *

**Chapter 18:** Like Eating Glass

Sirius watched as the last days of winter lingered then finally fell away, and felt relief as the brown patches of earth grew green and the canopy of the forest returned, verdant and thick, to shelter him from the elements -- and Dementors – once more. The winter had been long and cold, with the miserable conditions reminding him of Azkaban and the foul, soulless creatures who guarded the wizard prison. It had been so long since he'd felt truly warm, he feared he would never feel it again, just as he feared that he would never find Peter since he'd gone missing a few months ago. But as sure as the sunrise each morning, its bright rays peeking through the thickening treetops, the lovely quick – witted ginger – haired cat had given him hope.

Peter, it seemed, had found a perfect hiding place, a place that was as secluded as it was protected – Hagrid's hut. Sirius had to admit, it was truly genius for Peter to hide almost in plain sight. Hagrid's hut was always occupied, whether by the half – giant himself or his overlarge boarhound, which, Sirius was sure, would not take kindly to another dog invading its space. But at least Harry was relatively out of Peter's range. Sirius was grateful for that. Still, patience had never been one of his virtues, but his only option was to wait patiently for the day when the little cabin, with its thatched roof and crumbling walls, would be empty. That was the day he would strike. Until that day came, Sirius was forced to lurk in the woods, watching and waiting. The one advantage of that plan was that he was able to watch the activity of the students around him, catch glimpses of Harry, Remus, or his daughter, and listen in on all the private conversations that took place at the edge of the forest – conversations that gave him insight into just what had been happening at Hogwarts since his last attempt on Peter's life.

Sirius hadn't been surprised to hear that Harry's mate, the Weasley boy, had become a celebrity of sorts. He alone had seen the "crazed murderer" and survived to tell the tale, but he was surprised that Sophie's name was mentioned almost as much. It seemed that someone had spread the rumour that the DADA professor's daughter had been caught out of bounds early the next morning and had been given preferential treatment, while another boy, a Hufflepuff, had been punished for the same thing. The rumour had led to some rather nasty comments by other Hufflepuffs who were offended by their housemate's treatment and, to no one's surprise (least of all his), the Slytherins, who could smell an opportunity to make things worse, had jumped in to do just that.

Barely two weeks after his break – in at Hogwarts, Sirius had witnessed Sophie yelling at a haughty – looking Slytherin (who looked familiar, though he couldn't place where he'd seen him) by the lake, and from the snatches of conversation he heard (it was much too crowded for him to risk getting closer) he gathered the boy was the culprit. When wands were brandished, the crowd scattered but McGonagall reached them just in time. As Sirius watched the stern professor marching the two of them back up to the castle, he doubted that she would get out of _that_.

A month later, he'd watched as Harry, side – by – side with Remus, had lingered under the very same tree he and his mates had favoured as boys, in deep conversation with his professor. Sirius' heart broke over and over as he saw the look of pain in his mate's eyes, staring at the boy while he spoke, James' son looking down at his own feet in something like embarrassment or shame. He wondered what it was like to see him up – close and actually talk to him, the same little boy he'd held in his arms, cooing and giggling, oblivious of what was to come. In that moment, he almost envied Remus and he berated himself for wishing he was in his mate's place.

Sirius, as Padfoot, had been watching the tiny hut for weeks while trying to stay hidden from wandering students and members of the staff. Despite the presence of a hippogriff chained to a post in his pumpkin patch, it seemed that the spot behind Hagrid's garden wall was the favoured place for deep confessions of longing and/or playing out of desires, and the staff seemed to know it. As he crouched unseen in the bushes one late April evening, his eyes fixed on the front door, the very same Slytherin that Sophie had almost duelled trudged up the muddy path, pulling another boy by the arm. Sirius had witnessed enough couples to know that this was something else, and he suddenly felt very uncomfortable. It wasn't that the students happened to be the same gender, (he'd seen enough of that kind of thing in Azkaban not to be shocked by it) it was the way the taller boy held the other boy's arm, his fingers white from gripping hard, a sinister look plastered on his arrogant face.

Just as the two boys were rounding the corner, the front door of the hut burst open and Hagrid, looking bleary – eyed and swollen, emerged like an overlarge bird hatching from a tiny egg, his trusty boarhound trailing after him. He walked through the garden, slipped a leash on the hippogriff and then led it away slowly for what Sirius assumed was a walk.

Sirius looked at the house longingly. It was finally empty – or at least as empty as he needed it to be. Peter was somewhere in there, biding his time. _Well_, thought Sirius, _his time is up_. He crept out from under the bushes, steeling a quick glance around him to make sure he wasn't seen, then ran to the back door. His knife, the one he'd stolen from a wizard family home after his escape, was clenched between his teeth and standing on hind legs, he navigated the blade into the lock with ease. But just as he heard the click of the bolt sliding back into place, a sudden thumping sound and a groan of pain caused him to jump and the knife clattered to the stone steps. Quickly, he clamped his canines on the handle and bounded to the other end of the garden wall, where an overlarge tomato plant grew over the side, so that he was obscured from view but could see in front of and behind the wall. The two boys evidently hadn't heard the commotion because as Padfoot crept towards the forest, his first chance to find Peter slowly dwindling away, he heard sobbing and a series of grunts.

What he saw next left him nauseated.

The Slytherin stood looking down as he zipped up his uniform trousers, his face contorted in a look of satisfaction and disgust, a look that, at various times in his life, Sirius had witnessed on the face of overzealous purebloods. It was a look that said, "You are nothing but the filth beneath my dragon – skin boots." The other boy lay in a heap on the ground, sobbing into his hands, his trousers around his ankles, the grass beneath him stained a light crimson. The Slytherin, whose face had changed to one of cold fury, kicked him hard in the leg.

"Get up!" he hissed, bending down slightly and pulling the boy to his feet by his tie, "Get up and stop your blubbering before that great oaf comes back and hears you!"

As the crying boy stood and pulled up his trousers, Sirius suddenly realized where he'd seen them both. It had been in the corridors that morning, as he dragged Sophie to the statue of the One – Eyed Witch. Back then he'd been more preoccupied with getting out of the castle without getting caught than the sexual antics to two boys in lust. But now, he realized he'd been so very wrong in assuming that it had been that simple. He longed to help the young boy as he stifled a sob and tried to arrange his clothes to look as if nothing had happened and he felt a stab of rage as he watched the older boy brush off his shoulders casually, as if he hadn't just committed an unforgivably vile and callous act.

Sirius was torn. He knew he couldn't risk giving himself away, yet he couldn't stand there and do nothing. Just as he reached the edge of the forest, he made up his mind. Bounding back towards the garden wall, he let out a fierce growl, then lunged at the Slytherin, sinking his large, sharp teeth into his ankle. He felt the boy kick as he yelped loudly and the other boy, knocked off his feet in the melee, scrambled up and pelted away. Sirius locked his jaw around the boniest part of the Slytherin's leg and felt the sickening crunch as the bone snapped in two. The boy hit the ground with a sharp cry of pain.

Sirius came to his senses, unclenched the leg and backed away, baring teeth as a final warning before turning around and bounding back into the forest. When he was deep inside the shelter of the forest, he slowed, and feeling the surge of adrenaline and fury course through him and die down, he slumped against an ash tree. He was worn and tired, and after witnessing such brutality, such evil, all he wanted to do was lie down and sleep. But he found, as he tried to push away the images he'd just witnessed, that he just couldn't do it. The pitiless act was indicative of something far more sinister, something he'd seen in others so many years ago, yet he'd never seen it in Peter.

He couldn't fathom how that pudgy boy, the tag – along mate he'd grown to love, had become a callous killer. Had he never seen it? Had Peter hid his predilection for evil _that_ well, or had it simply never been there? Sirius had never had the chance to brood over it so thoroughly as he did that night, and after a night spent wracking his memories for any signs of that particular weakness, Sirius came to the conclusion that, yes, the signs had been there – in the way Peter followed but never led, how he happily relied on his mates for everything and rarely put in an effort. But perhaps the most telling thing had not been in what he did but what he didn't. Peter never talked about his future, preferring instead to sit in rapture listening to James talk about his own lofty plans for his life. It was, Sirius realized, as if he already knew he would amount to nothing and refused to fool himself into believing anything more.

It was in that moment, as he lay on the cool ground, the morning sky growing lighter overhead, that Sirius realized why he'd never seen Peter for what he really was. Sirius had looked at his less – talented mate through James' eyes, which were covered over in a kind of sweet naiveté that a Black simply wasn't capable of, and he, in turn, had pushed any awareness of who his mate really was away. He didn't want to see what was really there, because it meant that he was one of them, cynical and prejudiced, and the last thing Sirius had ever wanted to be was _that_ kind of Black. He would have rather drank a poison to kill that part of him, or eaten glass to cut out the Blackest part of his heart – anything to get rid of any sign of his family. The desire to deny the very thing that could never truly define him, had led him to cover over his eyes and ignore who Peter really was.

**8888888**

Sophie sat on the small ledge of the window in her dorm room, staring out at the setting sun, a cigarette in her hand. She hadn't smoked in ages and from the acrid taste of the smoke on her tongue, she remembered why. It was disgusting. She stubbed out the remainder of fag on the bottom of her old canvas hi – tops (cherry red and much worn), and pulled the window closed. She was alone in the room, her roommates preferring to steer clear of her ever since the end of February.

After the attempt on Harry's life, Sophie had struggled with the aftermath. Tristan Cates had spread it through the higher years that she'd been caught out of bounds and suggested to anyone who was willing to listen that she was getting special treatment. This had led to hostility towards her from other students and she'd been dealing with that hostility ever since. Her erstwhile boyfriend, Cedric, had been dragged into the situation by other Hufflepuffs, who were annoyed that their mate, Jimmy McGiffert, had been subjected to one of Snape's famous detentions, while all she got, according to them, was a "slap on the wrist." The ensuing break – up, which she had always known had to happen (for different reasons – all revolving around the full moon), had been neat and painless. At least that's how she made it seem. Only her dorm mates had known how she'd cried herself to sleep for a week. To top it all, Alicia had grown suspicious of her since finding her bloodied sheet sticking out from under her bed, along with the expensive dress stuffed in a box. Though she hadn't shared any of what she'd found with Katie, she _had_ confronted Sophie, demanding to know, "what in Merlin's old, saggy bollocks" was going on. Sophie, of course, couldn't tell her the truth and for the first time in her life, she felt she couldn't lie. She and Alicia had grown apart ever since.

Only her father knew her part in the events that night, or rather, she imagined he had joined the dots and had a fuzzy picture in his mind about what she had and hadn't done. He hadn't actually let her tell him – anything. All he'd wanted to know was that she hadn't been hurt. The rest, he intimated, didn't matter, but she knew from the way he'd treated her ever since, that it really had. Gone were the family dinners together in his quarters and the easy banter between them, where she would share her day. Instead, he watched her closely to make sure she didn't stray or attract anymore undue attention, while keeping her at arms' length. At first she was saddened, then sadness turned to frustration, and finally, anger. It was this anger that led to rebel in ridiculous ways – smoking for the sake of it being one of them.

As Sophie locked the window, a sudden movement by Hagrid's cottage caught her eye. A student was tearing up the hill, while looking back, as if being chased. Then she saw another student stumbling behind the other. She watched in fascinated curiousity as the student that had lagged behind pointed his wand at the other and a jet of green light flashed on the darkening grounds. Then Sophie could see no more.

She was on her feet instantly, pelting down the stairs and through the Common Room, her feet carrying her towards the scene on the grounds she'd just witnessed, even though her mind was telling her to go for help. She ran by a small throng of students and then another as she descended the stairs swiftly, but no professors were roaming the castle. She knew there was no time to hunt for a teacher, the feeling in her gut was telling her so. Ignoring the calls from the Weasley twins as she passed them by the main entrance, she continued out of the castle and down the hill, hoping and praying that she wasn't too late.

* * *

Another cliffie... oops.

So, it wasn't too bad, right? I have decided to go with, what I think, will be a bit of a controversial subplot. Some of you may not like it, but I hope you'll give it a chance. I won't say anymore now, though...

BTW, the title is a Bloc Party song.

**Coming Soon** - chapter 19, in which Sophie makes a choice that gains her a dangerous enemy and changes her life in a way she could have never predicted...


	19. Chapter 19: Turn the Lights Out

A curious thing keeps happening, my chappies keep getting shorter... this continues where the last one left off, with Sophie running towards trouble... hope you like it, let me know.

**Warnings: **violence

**Disclaimer: **If you haven't figured it out already...

* * *

**Chapter 19:** Turn the Lights out

Sophie bounded across the grounds and towards the hill, her legs moving faster than humanly possible, the thought that someone – she didn't know who – might lay injured or dying spurring her on. Despite the violent urges around each full moon, and despite being what many considered the darkest of creatures, evil did not reside in her heart. Seeing the flash of green and knowing what it meant had triggered something in her that wouldn't let her sit idly by as someone suffered. It just wasn't in her.

She scanned the grounds as she neared the spot she'd seen the curse hit but there was no one. All around her, night had fallen, still and quiet, the sound of rustling wings and the occasional chirp the only movement around her. She felt cold dread creep up on her but she knew it was only her own fear. She couldn't understand it. She'd seen it with her own eyes but there was no sign of any disturbance. Calling on her lycanthropic senses, she felt a pair of eyes watching her at the bottom of the hill among the trees. Turning slowly, she spied some movement and heard the softest rustling of leaves.

Someone was hiding.

Realizing that she was out in the open, a perfect target for an Unforgivable Curse, she suddenly bolted down the path towards Hagrid's hut (taking care to slow her pace), crept into the edge of the forest when she was far enough not to be seen and doubled back. Sophie skulked among the trees like a predator stalking its prey, darkness folding in all around her, until she heard a harsh whisper in front of her.

"Stay still!"

It was only yards away.

"Please! – Let me go," another voice urged, "I didn't _do_ anything!"

Slowly, she pulled out her wand from the pocket of her stretched – out jumper with the buttons missing (once her father's), and pointed it in the direction of the voices.

"Lumos!" she whispered, and wandlight illuminated the shocked faces of Tristan Cates and Jimmy McGiffert, each bruised and soiled, as they sat crumpled on the soft ground, Cates holding McGiffert by his collar. Before Cates could react, Sophie uttered a spell and his wand flew out of his hand and landed at her feet. She placed a worn hi – top upon it, trapping it underfoot.

"Was it you?" she asked, confused and slightly shocked by the roughed – up, disheveled appearance of the Slytherin prefect and the fifth year Hufflepuff.

Jimmy's face said it all. He scooted away from Tristan and scrambled to his feet. "He tried to kill me!" he hissed, almost crying. There was a small gash on his forehead where, she guessed, he'd hit a rock after being hit in the back with a curse.

"I didn't try to kill you, _idiot_!" he hissed back, oozing of arrogance despite his current position on the ground, "I was trying to stop you!"

"With an Unforgivable Curse?" Sophie asked incredulously. She'd never liked Cates but she couldn't believe he was capable of that.

"It wasn't –" he protested but fell silent. "What are _you_ doing here?" he asked suddenly, an accusing tone to his voice.

"I saw you both from my window," she retorted, suddenly aware of the smell of blood. She pointed her wand towards him and found the source – his ankle.

"What happened to you?" she demanded. His trouser leg was torn as if ripped away with force, the grey cloth stained and his foot sticking out at an odd angle.

He gave her a contemptuous look. "What does it _look_ like?" he answered angrily.

His demeanor and tone infuriated her. "Lover's quarrel?" she quipped.

The look on Tristan's face changed.

"We were attacked!" Jimmy jumped in, sounding frantic. Sophie could tell he was deathly afraid.

"You mean _he_ attacked you," she corrected smoothly. She wasn't about to let Cates get away with had she'd seen him do.

"No!" Jimmy shouted, and stepped towards her in pleading, "No! He didn't! I swear!" He winced with each step. It didn't escape her notice.

"You just said –"

"It was a Grim," he continued, unabated, "it ran out and attacked us!"

Sophie tried to hide the look of shock on her face at his words, but noticed Cates staring at her with the utmost contempt. "There's no such thing," she said dismissively, trying to sound convincing.

"Something attacked me," the Slytherin added, his face white and his voice trembling slightly, "are you just going to stand there asking questions?" Sophie wasn't sure if it was pain or anger that made him look at her that way, but suspected it was a bit of both.

"Then I'll get Madame Pomfrey," she answered, suddenly wanting to get back to the castle. She could feel another pair of eyes watching them from a distance. It had to be Black.

"No!"

Jimmy lunged at her, desperate to stop her, even though she hadn't moved, and knocked her wand out of her hand. Cates, still sprawled on the ground, lunged for it and picked it off the ground with ease.

"Help me up!" he demanded, pointing her wand at her chest, a smug grin on his pale face.

They stared at each other for a moment, Sophie desperately trying to push away the fury that threatened to swallow her whole. She couldn't believe she was in this kind of situation – again.

"Come on!" Cates hissed impatiently. A red spark shot out from the tip of her wand.

Slowly and begrudgingly, she stuck out a hand and pulled Cates up by the arm, Jimmy grabbing the other, and helped him to his feet.

"You're going to get me to the dungeons," he commanded threateningly, sticking her wand in her ribs while leaning against the other boy, "then you're going to go back to Gryffindor Tower, keep your _mouth shut_ and forget this _ever_ happened."

She scoffed, which earned her an anxious look from McGiffert. "Am I?" she challenged.

"Yes. You are."

"Or what?" she challenged, unable to stop herself.

Before Cates had a chance to answer, Jimmy surprised them both with a whimper. Sophie looked around Tristan, who stood between them, to the fifth year. His eyes were staring ahead, round and full of fear. She followed his gaze to a spot through the trees up the hill. Two large, pale orbs glowed silvery – white in the darkness. It was him.

"That's it!" whispered Cates, suddenly frantic. He tried to scramble around behind them but lost his footing and fell to the ground.

Instinctively, Sophie dove for her wand, snatching it out of the Slytherin's hand and then went for the other, lying abandoned at their feet. Cates lunged for her, but missed and let out a loud wail as he landed on his injured leg. His cry broke the relative silence of the forest, frightening something nearby. Sophie felt a rush of air and heard the unmistakable sound of hooves pounding the soft earth as something that felt curiously like bony wings brushed past them, almost knocking her off her feet. Jimmy yelped in fright as he was jostled about by the unseen creatures, and then suddenly bolted out of the trees and up the hill. Knowing the disturbance would surely be heard by Hagrid, Sophie followed, leaving a panicked and furious Cates on the ground screaming obscenities after them. She caught up to Jimmy easily, just as they entered the courtyard, and managed to grab him and pull him into the shadows just as Filch clambered past them and down the path.

"Stinkin' kids," Filch muttered to himself, "always causin' trouble."

Sophie waited, her hand over Jimmy's mouth, until Filch was swallowed by the darkness. Then she pulled him back into the castle and up the stairs to the secluded landing on the second floor.

"Are you okay?" she asked him in a concerned whisper. He nodded slightly, looking like he might vomit.

"Are you going to tell?" he whispered. He looked like a frightened little boy, watching her anxiously for an answer.

"What did he do to you? I mean, besides the curse." She felt compelled to ask.

Jimmy McGiffert looked into her eyes and she was overwhelmed by the anguish within them. It was a kind of pain she'd never seen in someone and frankly, it frightened her.

"I won't tell," she breathed finally, tearing her eyes away from his and looking down at the stone floor.

He didn't respond, but turned away and disappeared down a flight of stairs, leaving Sophie alone on the empty landing, wondering what had just happened.

The next morning at breakfast, the Great Hall was abuzz with the news that the Slytherin prefect had been stripped of his badge that very morning, after being caught in the Forbidden Forest the night before.

"What a git!" laughed Lee Jordan, as Cates limped past them scowling.

It seemed that Cates, desperate to hide the truth, had claimed he'd seen a disturbance through a castle window and had gone out to investigate – alone – then was attacked by a wild creature. It was a flimsy story, to say the least, and Sophie was a little disappointed that the Slytherin couldn't come up with something better. Only Sophie and, she suspected, her father knew the whole truth about that aspect of his tall tale, because from what Lee Jordan told them over sausage and eggs, her father had been called in to investigate his claim.

"But why your dad?" George asked aloud.

"Yeah, would have made more sense to get Hagrid, wouldn't it?" added Fred.

The Gryffindors sitting near them all looked at Sophie expectantly. "Don't ask me," she shrugged.

"Maybe it's because he's had a lot of experience with dark creatures," added Hermione, who was sitting at the table alone. She coloured a little and averted her eyes when Sophie looked at her. It made her wonder.

The third year's answer seemed to satisfy Lee and the twins but Sophie noticed Alicia staring at her from across the table. When Sophie met her eye, she hastily looked away.

Sophie spent the rest of the day distracted by a handful nagging questions. Though Jimmy hadn't said it in so many words – in any words, really – she got the impression that he wasn't involved with Cates willingly. From the way he quickly obeyed the Slytherin to the way he pleaded with her desperately to believe that he was telling the truth (even though she knew he wasn't), Sophie was sure the Hufflepuff was afraid of the older boy. He _did_ attack him, after all. The question was – why?

Then there was the attack on Cates by the '_Grim_'.

She couldn't fathom why Sirius Black, whose animagus form was a secret, would risk exposing himself (or the fact that a large black dog was prowling the Forbidden Forest) by attacking a student for no good reason. Yes, there were claims (mostly from the _Daily Prophet_) that Black was mad, but from what Sophie had experienced, he seemed lucid enough to her. Why would a madman and murderer, one who supposedly hated muggles and halfbloods, do what he could to help a werewolf? His presence alone had been enough to give her the advantage on Cates the night before, and Sophie had the feeling that's _exactly_ what he was trying to do.

There was also what he'd said; two little words that had nagged at her since hearing them uttered breathlessly by the supposed madman – "_I didn't_."

The more she thought about it (and she'd thought about every day since that cold February night) the more she questioned Black's supposed intentions. She had the feeling that there was more to the story, but like the library books she'd borrowed from the muggle library in the village as a child, the words were crayoned over and the pictures had been ripped out, as if someone had deliberately defaced the book which told the tale for their own selfish reasons. She just didn't know who had done it or why. And she didn't know where to begin to look for the missing text; certainly_ not_ with her father. And certainly _not _with Sirius Black.

Settling into her four - poster late that night, as her dormmates slept soundlessly, Sophie decided there was only one person who could shed some light on where to begin. Though she hated the idea of speaking to him about the past, and doubted he would even consent, Snape was the only other person she knew that had known Sirius Black - and her father - all those years ago; had known them, had loathed them and loathed them still. But, it was all she had and, determined to find the missing pages, she set about a plan in her mind on how to coax the information she needed out of the loathsome professor.

* * *

Finally, no cliffie. 

I decided that Snape needs some face (text?) time, mostly because evil and nasty is so much fun to write, but there are other reasons... of which even I am not sure of yet (though I have an idea)...

**BTW** the title is not the actual song title (finding titles and songs that fit is annoying me) but was inspired by an Arcade Fire song (it's an actual line screamed at the end of the song) The mood fits, anyway...

**Coming Soon** - Chapter 20 (oh my gosh! Already!) - in which Sophie continues to struggle with doubt, finding the truth and the people around her, and time speeds up for everyone as the night in the Shrieking Shack comes closer... and yes, there will be another flashback. There is still so much to explore, after all...


	20. Chapter 20: Hunting for Witches

**A/N:** The next chapter is up and there isn't much to say that I haven't said before... there's no flashback this chapter - sorry to those who like that sort of thing - it just didn't fit. But since_ I _like that sort of thing (selfish me:P) there will be one in the next chapter... possibly...

**Warning: ** Language, some violence, but nothing too shocking ...

**Disclaimer:** Do I have to keep reminding you? Oh, yeah, probably...

* * *

**Chapter 20:** Hunting for Witches 

Sophie was having a bad day. She'd already had a row with Katie Bell over her messy side of their dorm room before breakfast, gotten detention in Transfiguration that morning, and a near concussion from Fred's broomstick, which had accidentally – and painfully – collided with the side of her head during free period in the Common Room that afternoon. And if that wasn't enough, her brilliant plan to find out more about Sirius Black had backfired – and badly.

"Look, _Lupin_," Snape seethed, spit flying from the corners of his twisted mouth, "I don't give a damn whether Dumbledore wants you here or not, if you don't put a leash on your brat I'll – "

"—You'll _what_?" Her father was on his feet, his chair tipping over and banging to the floor.

Sophie stood, rooted to the spot by the door, unsure what to do. This was all her fault. Despite the bad luck she'd been having all day, she had been determined to find out what she could about Black. Watching her loathsome Potions professor seethe with rage in the middle of her father's office told her it had been a bad idea to approach him.

"I'll make sure the _Dark Force Defense League_ knows what side she's on," Snape responded in a low, threatening tone.

Sophie watched, terrified, as something shifted in her father's eyes. She'd heard that name before, but didn't know what he was referring to.

"It was you!" her father growled.

"I've no idea what you mean, _Lupin_," Snape said silkily, straightening up and lifting his impossibly large nose into the air, "just as _you've_ no idea why your daughter has been harassing me about Black!"

Sophie thought she should probably speak up, defend her father and tell the truth, but her voice just didn't want to cooperate.

"Is this true, Sophie?" her father asked, turning his blazing eyes towards her.

Snape twirled around to face her and gave her his most demoralizing look.

Like a birthday balloon forgotten in the sun, she felt deflated and scorched under their collective gaze. "It's not how it sounds," she squeaked, her voice betraying her with its child – like quality.

Her father's face changed at her answer, becoming like stone, and she knew she had disappointed him yet again.

"I _will not_ be mocked by a student," Snape said, addressing her directly, "especially not the likes of _you_." Then he turned on his heels to face her father again. "And as for you," he continued, his voice low once more, "I suggest you spend the next month looking for another position, one more suited for a _creature_ such as yourself" – he smirked nastily and puffed out his scrawny chest – "because I'll be _damned_ if I let you get away with _any_ of this!"

He swept out of the office so quickly, Sophie felt a cool breeze coming off his billowy cloak. Then he was gone.

Sophie and her father stood in silence, each trying to digest what had just happened. Sophie, for her part, felt a little confused, as if she had missed an important piece of the conversation. Snape had mentioned some '_Defense League_', and her father had accused him of something to do with it – something to do with her.

"What did you say to him?" her father asked after a long silence.

She didn't want to tell him.

"I – I just asked him if he could tell me anything about… Sirius Black."

He looked at her. "That's it?"

"Yes," she said defensively. She didn't want to tell him that she might have mentioned she knew they "weren't the best of mates." The look on Snape's face when she'd said it had been frightening enough; she didn't want to see that look from her father.

He walked around his desk and sat on the corner, looking pensive. "Why did you ask _him_ about – " he hesitated, " – Sirius Black?" The name came out of his mouth in barely a whisper.

She sighed. They'd been avoiding this conversation for months; mostly because he'd made it clear to her that it was a taboo subject. Now he was asking her to say it. "Because you won't talk to me anymore – not about anything – and especially not about him."

It was his turn to sigh as he ran a hand through his greying hair. "What is it you want to know?" he asked after another heavy silence.

She wasn't sure how to answer. She doubted he was willing to answer all her questions, doubted even more that she would be able to get them all out. She pondered for a moment, then decided to ask the question what had been foremost on her mind for the last few months – the question that had become the inevitable conclusion to all her obsessive thoughts.

"Is there a chance – " she began but hesitated, knowing once she got it out she couldn't take it back, " – I mean, is it possible, that, well… Could he be innocent?"

Her father's face shifted a little and darkened like a stormy sky. "Why would you ask me that?" he responded, his voice low and controlled.

She could feel something simmering just below the surface of the calm face of her father, could see the wolf glinting in his eyes. "Is it possible?" she asked again, determined to plough ahead despite his emotion.

He stood abruptly and began to pace his office. "No," he said firmly, shaking his head but refusing to meet her eye, "No."

She watched as his movement changed, becoming more like a prowl. It was a little unnerving to see her father struggling to keep control. Still, she knew she had to get some answers.

"How can you be sure?"

Her father stopped mid – step and whirled around then lunged for her, grabbing hold of her shoulders and jostling her. "What has he done to you!?"

"Nothing!" she yelled, stunned. She tried to wriggle out of his grip but it was too tight.

"Did he speak to you?" he went on, his eyes glistening with madness, "Did he tell you he didn't do it?"

He let go of her suddenly, his eyes wide with panic. She stumbled backwards and hit the office door.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, shaking, "I'm sorry, I – " He began to pace again, distraught, and Sophie felt guilty for pushing him, especially a week before the full moon. Just as the wolfsbane had affected her, she suspected it had different but equally negative side effects on him as well.

He stopped pacing and approached her warily, his arms twitching at his sides, his hands curling and uncurling into fists. "You can't believe him, Sophie," he continued imploringly, "He's always been good at charming people – girls – but you can't trust him."

"But he trusts you," she blurted out.

"What?!" His face conveyed the incredulity in his voice.

"You're keeping his secret," she whispered, determined not to back down.

"You know why I'm doing that," he breathed. He slumped into the nearest chair. "You know why I can't tell the truth."

"Yes," she countered, "I do."

The silence lay heavy between them once more, weighed down by everything left unsaid. But neither one of them would say it. Neither one of them had the energy or the will to continue. Sophie felt like it was a losing battle. Her father had lived through Black's betrayal and the consequences of it. Who was she to question what he believed to be true?

"You better get going," her father said abruptly, standing up and straightening himself to his fullest height. Sophie, only a little shorter, felt dwarfed by his slight but formidable presence. "You still might be able to get some dinner."

Sophie nodded, feeling like her seven – year – old self, silent and obedient. She didn't want to challenge him any further.

She turned and pulled open the door, but stopped on the threshold. "Dad," she said, turning around. He looked at her with tired eyes, looking how she felt – defeated.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry," she stated simply, then turned and walked away.

**8888888**

Remus stood staring at the half – open door of his office for a long time, his mind racing through every conceivable scenario involving Sirius and his daughter. He couldn't believe that he had swayed her and gotten her to question his guilt. How had he done it? Remus doubted there was any nefarious magic involved. Sirius had always been good at talking himself out of anything, and he'd always known how to manipulate (James called it charisma). He was particularly successful with the opposite sex. Was this what had happened? Had his daughter, like so many others, fallen under the Black spell?

He shook his head, refusing to believe it. Sophie was intelligent, and had never been very trusting of anyone. He couldn't see her trusting a mad mass murderer, even if it was Sirius. She'd lived under the shadow of what had happened that fateful Halloween night, twelve long years ago, alongside him, feeling his sadness on every one of her birthdays, learning to be wary of others, never getting too close to anyone. He'd seen her at Hogwarts this past year, laughing and talking with her mates, but there was always an intangible distance between them. She never hung around with the same set of friends more than two days in a row, and removed herself from them frequently, disappearing to the library or, he guessed, her dorm room. Even her roommates were kept at arms' length, preferring the company of boys instead (he guessed it was because they were a less meddlesome bunch). She had learned well from him – maybe too well.

He could see now that although on the surface, Sophie seemed like a typical student, she was in fact very isolated. Alone. And it was his fault.

Remus sighed and walked around to his desk, picked his chair off the ground, not bothering to use his wand, and sat down at his overflowing desk. He reached down and pulled out the top drawer, extracting a shabby piece of folded parchment and laid it out gingerly on the spot it had previously occupied on his desk.

He had been studying the map that lay hidden within the yellowed paper just before Severus had burst in, Sophie in tow, watching for any sign of Sirius, and had hastily stuffed into the drawer just in time. Now, he pored over it once more, waving his wand to shut and lock the door without looking up, and quickly found Harry's tiny dot. He was in the Common Room, his mates' dots beside him.

Feeling some relief, Remus continued to pore over the map he'd recently confiscated from Harry, catching glimpses of names as they moved around the castle, but he couldn't see Sirius anywhere. His relief deepened as he searched for Sophie's marker, looking first around Gryffindor Tower, then towards the library and the Great Hall. There was no sign of her but he didn't want to assume the worst. There were little pockets of overcrowded dots on the map, where students had congregated and he thought that she might be among them. Finally, after fifteen minutes, he gave it up as a bad job and tapped the parchment, then folded it up and slipped it into his tattered briefcase. He, like (he suspected) his daughter, had missed dinner in the Great Hall but despite his hunger, all he wanted to do was rest. He'd started his monthly wolfsbane regimen the night before, and was feeling the effects already.

Moving towards the hidden door to his private quarters, Remus took one last look out the window, his sharp eyes searching the grounds for movement, but found none. Unsatisfied but too drained to give it anymore thought, he settled into bed and fell quickly into an uneasy sleep.

Had he lingered at the Marauder's Map a little longer and looked towards the dungeons, Remus would have found his daughter's tiny black dot moving towards the kitchens, followed closely behind by Tristan Cates.

**8888888**

"What are _you_ doing down here?"

Sophie cringed at the sound of that voice. It was the last person she had wanted to run into.

"None of your fucking business," she threw back, without stopping or turning around. She didn't hurry, determined not to show any fear to the Slytherin, but felt relief as the portrait of the giggling pears came closer.

"Well, _you_ have a filthy little mouth, don't you?" Tristan Cates caught up to her easily and fell in step beside her.

"Go away," she answered dryly, slowing as she neared the hidden door to the kitchens. She was hungry but didn't want Cates to see it, just in case he didn't know it was there. Like a true and stubborn Gryffindor, she hated the thought of giving him - a _Slytherin_ - any of the castle's secrets.

Cates stepped in front of her suddenly, and she bumped into him. Stumbling backwards, she caught herself.

"Clumsy, aren't we?" he cooed menacingly, leaning close to her ear.

"Get out my way," was her only response.

"I don't think so."

"Get out of my way."

"No."

"Get. Out. Of. My. Way."

He smirked, his face close to hers, and stepped to the side. She started to walk past him but was suddenly slammed into the wall with a force she didn't know he possessed.

Her head hit the wall in the exact spot that Fred's broom had bruised her and she felt an instant throb in the still tender spot. She let out a cry of pain, and Cates shoved his hand over her mouth.

"Keep quiet, bitch!" he spat as he used his whole body to trap her between himself and the wall.

She had to fight the urge to bite him, knowing the consequences would be disastrous, and quickly considered her options. If she threw him off, which, given her inherent strength, she could do quite easily, it would make him suspicious and she couldn't have that, so, instead, she struggled a little and managed to remove his hand from her mouth.

"Get off me, arsehole!" she exclaimed, careful to keep her voice low.

He smirked once more, clearly relishing the position he had her in, and at that moment, she hated him more than she thought possible.

"Make me," he taunted.

Just then, Peeves swept past them, humming under his breath. He swooped around and back again, and began to cackle madly.

"_Ooh_, look at what we have here!" he shouted. Cates let go of her and backed away.

"Oh, don't let _me_ interrupt," the ghost swooned, hovering in the air.

Sophie had never been more grateful to see the pesky apparition in her life. That is, until he realized who she was.

"Oh, Loopy Lupin's little lamb is playing with a snake!" he said gleefully. "Playing rough!"

She peeled herself off the wall and started back towards the stairs, hoping to get away quickly, just as the ghost zoomed down the hall, repeating his little rhyme in sing – song. _Great_, she thought, disgusted, _this will be all over the school by morning._

"Where do you think you're going, _Loopy Lupin_?" Tristan grabbed her by the arm and yanked her towards him but this time she was ready.

She pulled out her wand from her pocket and pointed it towards him. "Let go," she commanded. He did.

"You think that wand's gonna stop me?" he scoffed, his eyes glancing at her wand nervously.

"No, but the curse I hit you with will," she answered with confidence. She knew many spells that would leave him crying in pain and though she'd never actually performed any, she knew from the venom coursing through her veins, she could.

"You wouldn't," he said, disbelieving. The hint of laughter in his voice died away when he looked into her eyes.

The thought of what he'd been doing to Jimmy McGiffert came to mind, and she ground her teeth in anger. After the night in the woods, she'd befriended the Hufflepuff and he'd confided just enough for her to fill in the blanks. She'd never planned on confronting Cates (at Jimmy's pleading) but couldn't stop herself now.

"Just like _you_ wouldn't, oh, I don't know, _force_ yourself on someone."

Tristan Cates face fell, replaced by anger a moment later.

"Stay out of it, you fucking little mudblood lover!" he seethed.

"That's funny," she responded calmly, despite herself, "_you_ calling _me_ a 'mudblood lover'." She backed away, putting distance between them. She wanted to get away before he had a chance to pull out his wand once she bolted for the stairs. "I wonder what your slimy mates would think of your choice in um, _sexual partners_," she whispered, her foot hitting the first step. "Or _sexual preferences_, for that matter," she added, getting ready to run.

"You bi – "

Before he had a chance to insult her, she pointed her wand at the portrait on the wall beside him and it flew towards him, smacking him in the back of the head and knocking him to the floor. She heard him yelp as she bounded up the stairs and then turned at the top of the landing and waved her wand once more. A solid brick wall suddenly appeared at the foot of the stairs, only several feet high, but tall enough to hinder his progress when he ran into it trying to follow her up the stairs. She heard a string of curses behind her and with a last fleeting look at the enraged Slytherin, Sophie ran back to Gryffindor Tower, hoping that no one would notice her out - of - breath and disheveled appearance. The last thing she wanted was her mates – especially Lee and the twins – to find out that Cates had attacked her.

It would mean war – and the last thing she needed was to be dragged into one of those.

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I decided that actually writing the conversation between Sophie and Snape wasn't as interesting as the reaction... I have skipped over explaining things, like how Remus ended up with the map, because that's pretty much canon and I'm not messing with that... although the story will veer away from canon the night Harry finds out the truth about Black... 

BTW, The chapter title is a Bloc Party song and I think it fits, with Sophie feeling persecuted by bad luck - and an evil Slytherin (was that redundant?)...

The next chapter is coming soon! No preview because I don't stick to it anyway... see ya!


	21. Chapter 21: Wolf Like Me

Hello all!

The end is near... sort of. This story is close to the end but will continue in another part. I have an aversion to stories with too many chapters, so I'm dividing it up, according to books, so where PoA leaves off, so will this part, more or less... I anticipate _at least_ three more chapters before starting on the next part, so bear with me...

This chapter has a flashback and introduces another character, who will show up in the next part, but I had to introduce her here...

**Warning:** references to violence

**Dislclaimer:** I don't own any characters you recognize. They are the property and creation of JK Rowling. But you know that...

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** Chapter 21**: Wolf Like Me

'_Got a curse we cannot lift_

_Shines when the sunset shifts_

_There's a cure comes with a kiss_

_The bite that binds, the gift that gives'_

- _Wolf Like Me_, TV on the Radio

_July, 1980_.

Remus curled in a corner of a dark, dank cave, high in the mountains in the county Wicklow, listening to the sounds of others like him, passing their time like dark creatures were ought to do. The yelping and chanting at the mouth of the cave intensified as the night wore on, and Remus imagined that more than one of his ribald brethren would be dead by the end of the night.

This was a typical night among the pack, a night close to the full moon – and he hated it.

Even so, he was a part of this pack, had been for the past three months, and though he had participated in things he'd never thought he'd have to do in the name of war – in his lifetime – for the Order, he refused to participate in the bloody ritual of pack – fighting. He was determined to hold on to his last vestige of dignity, knowing that dignity did not belong in this place.

He'd been undercover in several packs already, some of them more civilized than others, but this one… this was the worst yet. The leader, a Scottish brute by the name of Fenrir Greyback, encouraged the males of the pack to fight for _everything_ – food, women, and bragger's rights. The older man, who looked slightly canine during every phase of the moon, seemed to relish that kind of violence – for its own sake – calling it, "beautiful and real." The violence also served another purpose. The weak were rooted out early, and the ones left – the victors – were welcomed into Greyback's fold and rewarded accordingly.

Pack – fighting was a solely male sport, where only the strongest survived and the women were never, under any circumstances, allowed to participate, but to think that this rule was for their benefit was a mistake. Women in the pack were treated the worst. They were often brutalized, and made to fight the men – or whore themselves – for meager meals and some protection. Why any of them stayed was a testament to how bad it had been for them as werewolves in their own lives. One woman in particular, a young witch named Kate, was the only reason Remus (who'd realized long ago this pack would never be swayed from their leader's volatile influence) had stayed – Kate and her unborn child.

In her previous life, she'd been a talented witch, recently married and expecting her first child, when one night, as she strolled home from the market, she was attacked and bitten. It was supposed to be the best day of her life, as she'd found out that morning she was with child but it became her worst. Her husband and family were terrified of her and after her first transformation, wanted nothing to do with her, but worse, they wanted to destroy her unborn child. In panic, she'd fled, and had come to the pack at almost the same time as Remus.

Why she'd been allowed into the pack, Remus couldn't figure – at first. She could barely fend for herself, and would have never lasted a week if Greyback hadn't deemed her '_off – limits_' to the males of the pack. It seemed that Greyback was keeping her there as an his own personal Petri dish, watching to see what happened next, a notion which sickened Remus more than anything else. Everyone knew she would eventually lose the baby – it was impossible for a werewolf to carry to term – but so far, she was defying the odds. At every full moon, she'd transformed, and the next morning he would find her weak and ill but still pregnant. It was only a matter of time before her body betrayed her and she lost the child; everyone expected it (some had even placed wagers on when), everyone but her.

Remus was biding his time in the pack, her unofficial protector, doing what he had to do to get by, waiting for her body to do what was in its lycanthropic nature to do, so that when the novelty of the pregnant werewolf was gone, he could take her and flee. She hadn't asked him to do it, and she didn't even know what he had planned (the truth was, he didn't even know if she would _want_ to leave) but he had to stay, he had to try. The thought of letting her become like the others, brutalized and brutal, was too much for his fragile state of mind. If he couldn't save at least one life, then the war he was fighting was pointless – and he couldn't accept _that._

As he lay in his corner watching Kate sleep from a distance (it would be foolish of him to make it obvious he was watching over her) he couldn't help but think of Lily. The last time he'd seen her, her belly had swollen considerably, and despite the dire prediction surrounding her unborn son, was the happiest he'd ever seen. He wondered if she'd already had the baby – if little Harry (the name decided on early, taken after Lily's favourite uncle) was already part of this world. It saddened him to think that he might have missed it, but he felt a little better at the thought that Peter and Sirius (the proud godfather) were there to welcome the littlest Marauder, James' and Lily's son.

He just wished he could be there, too.

A part of him knew that it was better that he wasn't. Being a werewolf, he would never be allowed into the maternity ward in St. Mungo's, a notion that would anger his mates and cause all sorts of problems when the Healers refused to let him visit. The happiest day of James and Lily's lives would be ruined and he would feel guilty for being responsible for it. _No_, he thought, shivering slightly as a cool breeze swept through the cavern, _it really is better this way_.

The one thing he'd come to realize after so many months undercover in different packs throughout Great Britain was that he really didn't belong – not in a pack like this one, and not in the pack he'd been clinging to since he was eleven. Neither one suited him, or rather, _he_ suited neither one, because he was too civilized, too moral, yet ultimately, too dangerous; too much like an animal but not enough of one to survive in the wild.

The truth was he didn't know where he belonged. He only knew where he didn't. That realization made him feel more alone than he'd ever felt in his life. More alone than when his father died in an accident almost a year ago, more alone than when his mother followed, succumbing to cancer six months later. He was the last Lupin, and there would never be another – the curse running in his veins had staunched any hope within in that he would ever be in James' place. Yet, he still watched the young woman, her belly impossibly round, with a tiny spark of hope that she could defy the odds -- odds that every one of them in the cave, whether they wanted to admit it or not, carried with them like a heavy anchor round their necks. Odds that made it impossible to live when all they could feel within them was the compulsion to take life.

As Remus finally drifted off to sleep (despite the blood – curdling howls just outside the mouth of the cave) cold and utterly, desperately alone, he tried to find comfort in his situation – a silver lining in a very dark cloud. It was the little boy. The one he would give his life to protect, the one Lily would give birth to any day now – the one that Voldemort had already targeted, before his birth, to die.

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_June, 1994_.

Despite the fact that Sophie was sitting her Transfiguration O.W.L., at a small single desk in the middle of the Great Hall (now converted into a large examination room), her hand did not move. Instead, she stared straight ahead, her eyes unfocused, her mind far away.

She couldn't concentrate on the pages before her, questions melding into one another so that nothing made any sense. Her head ached, her stomach hurt, and every joint and muscle tingled, her body having its own sense memory of the full moon. It was tonight, her transformation. Her body knew it and so did her mind, and much to her frustration, both were refusing to cooperate in any way.

_Damn it_, she thought as she tore her eyes away from the back of someone's head, _Damn it – Concentrate!_ Trying to gather her mind, she snapped her quill in half without meaning to, and knocked over her half – empty bottle of ink, so that the barely scribbled on parchment below was now covered in the sticky black liquid.

"Shite!" she grumbled loudly, jumping up to avoid being soaked.

The examiner at the front of the room rushed over with a stern word and a scandalized look, flicked his wand and siphoned off the inky mess, then strode away. Sophie sat down, feeling curious eyes on her, to her nearly – empty sheet and tried to focus once more.

An hour later, she left the room feeling lower than she had in weeks. She hadn't been able to make any sense of the questions on the O.W.L. – questions she could normally answer in her sleep – and had wasted the hour away by dwelling on things she couldn't fix. The past week had been the worst yet, with the rumours of a grudge between Cates and herself making the rounds thanks to Peeves, and many people, friends included, wondering what was behind it. She had been avoiding Jimmy McGiffert ever since, as she was keen enough to know he'd been looking for her. She felt guilty about the confrontation, even though it wasn't her doing, and was sure that Jimmy had been made to pay when she noticed him limping down the corridor a few days later.

Sophie had just managed to sneak away from the throng of students leaving the Great Hall, unseen by the only mates still talking to her – the twins and Lee – and headed for Gryffindor Tower (to rest before her transformation later that night) when she felt a tap on the shoulder.

"What in Merlin is wrong with you?" a voice murmured.

She turned and looked into Jimmy's irate face. _What's wrong with me?_ she thought, her mind stalling suddenly, _what isn't?_

"What do you mean?" she asked. She wished she'd been quicker out of the Great Hall, she didn't have the energy to deal with McGiffert at the moment.

He looked at her shrewdly, curiously, irritation in his eyes. "You look like hell," he answered, his voice softer than she would have expected. She could tell, despite his resentment towards her, he was concerned.

"Thanks," she said softly, the sarcasm in her voice surprising her a little. She didn't know she still had it in her.

"Why did you do it?" he asked suddenly. He looked around nervously, his eyes darting down the corridor then back again.

"I didn't mean to," she answered slowly, her energy waning as she sighed in frustration.

Jimmy looked into her eyes without blinking, then looked away once again, trying to make sure they weren't overheard.

"You bollixed everything, you know that?" he whispered.

"I'm sorry." She meant it, but at the same time she was annoyed that Jimmy was angry with her. She'd only tried to help him, after all.

He turned towards her suddenly and took a step closer, his face close to hers. Up close, she could hear his heart beating wildly, smell his slightly musky odour. It was too much for her heightened senses, and she felt her stomach lurch. Whatever angry words had been on the tip of his tongue disappeared as he examined her closely. "What's wrong with you?" he asked again, but this time she knew he meant something different.

All of a sudden, a violent wave of nausea hit her, and she doubled over and expelled her meager breakfast onto the stone floor. Jimmy jumped back but moved around behind her and let her lean on his arm. "You need Pomfrey," he stated, pulling her away from the sick and waving his wand to clean it up, "Come on, I'll take you."

Sophie didn't protest, instead let herself be led towards the hospital wing, silently thankful for his concern. She hadn't been sick like that in months and had almost forgotten how it felt. She wondered why the pre – moon phase of her transformation was hitting her so hard this month. It just didn't make any sense.

As they neared the double doors to the hospital wing, Jimmy, who had silently escorted her, finally spoke. "You should have stayed out of it," he said.

"I tried," she answered, her voice weak, "but Cates wouldn't let it alone."

"He's really angry."

"He's a bastard."

"Yeah, but he's a dangerous bastard," he stated, as they stopped beside the thick walnut doors. He steadied her and slowly let go. "Watch your back," he added.

Sophie heard his warning but didn't care much at the moment. She just wanted to lie down and sleep.

"You okay from here?" he asked, motioning towards the door with a nod.

"Yeah," she managed, pulling open the door with all the strength she could muster, "Thanks."

He nodded and walked away as Sophie walked through the door into the solace and safety of the hospital wing, her mind buzzing with Jimmy's words, the full meaning lost on her as she felt her body go limp and hit the floor.

**8888888**

Remus sat on the edge of a bed next to his daughter, his sore body propped up by three fluffy pillows taken from the empty beds on the other side of the curtained screen, watching her as she slept. It had been too long since he'd done so, ever since she turned eleven and insisted she didn't need to be tucked in anymore. _She's so much more independent then I ever was_, he thought as memories came back to him.

He was always more prone to melancholic reminisinces around the full moon, but he hadn't allowed himself to indulge in memories since last summer. It was just too much for him to think about Peter, Lily and James – their absence in his live, the emptiness in his heart, but his daughter… well, she was the exception. It always made him feel better to remember when she was a little girl, but lately, it had become difficult. He would let his mind wander to a specific memory – Sophie celebrating her first Christmas with him, her first day of school – and would end up trying to search it for any signs of the darkness within peaking out. _Stop it_, he scolded himself. He knew that kind of thinking was ridiculous, she was his daughter, not a stranger he didn't trust.

He focused on her once more, her breathing slow and steady, almost silent, so that she gave the impression of being deceased, and his body gave and involuntary shudder at the dreadful thought. She looked so peaceful, sweet and safe lying under the tartan coverlet, he wished she could stay there, safely tucked in, until Sirius was captured. He wished he could protect her from everything bad in the world, including that part of herself, but knew that even if he could she would never allow it. No, Sophie was more like her mother than he ever cared to admit and it was that part of her he tried not to see because it brought Eris to mind. That independence, intelligence and stubborn streak had been what he'd fallen in love with – or fancied himself in love with – and it had also been the thing he came to loathe. Sixteen years later, it was still hard for him to see it in his daughter.

"Daddy?"

Remus jumped up at the sound of Sophie's voice, feeling his body ache as he did. She was looking at him with sad eyes that instantly reminded him of that first night she came to live with him.

"What happened?" he asked, trying to push the thought away. He didn't want to dwell on the past.

"I don't know," she answered, "I just got suddenly weak."

"Have you been taking your potion?" He already knew the answer, as Snape had hinted more than once about it, but still had to ask.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

She looked away, up at the ceiling, enchanted to look like a clear, blue sky. "It's just…" she faltered, "it's just bad when I do."

He didn't ask her to explain. He knew the side effects of the potion well, and though _he_ was willing to live with them, he understood why she wasn't. He leaned over her, pushing her hair off her forehead, his hand lingering on her brow. She felt a little warm. "You should stay here until it's time," he said, "Madame Pomfrey will escort you to The Room."

He half – expected her to protest, and was a little surprised when she nodded and eeked out an "okay".

"I'll be in my office, as usual," he continued, straightening. He needed to take of some things before the full moon. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Sophie looked like she had something to say but thought better of it. Instead, she nodded and closed her eyes, the potion for a dreamless sleep she'd been given just before he got there, working its magic once more.

He leaned over, bending as low as his stiff, aching body would let him, and planted a kiss on her hair, then left the room quietly, his mind turning to another child, not his own, but one he had vowed to watch over. The execution for the hippogriff was in a few hours, and though he wasn't well enough to lend Hagrid his support, he could still make sure that Harry and his mates stayed out of trouble by watching the map. That was exactly what he intended to do.

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So, um, did you like? Let me know...

**BTW**, the title of the chapter is taken from the TV on the Radio song, a band I saw in concert a couple of years ago opening for Coldplay. Listen to the song, seriously, its wicked.

** Coming Soon** - chapter 22, in which Sirius is finally vindicated in his mate's eyes, Harry learns the truth, and Sophie steps in to change someone's fate... the twists begin...

See ya!


	22. Chapter 22: The Reckoning

Hello!

This chapter has flashbacks... it takes place the night of June 6th (ish) -- the night Harry finds out the truth...

R & R, I'd really appreciate the feedback...

**Warning**: violence

**Disclaimer**: Don't own the characters you recognize. Just borrowing them to do my bidding.

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**Chapter 22**: The Reckoning 

'_And you cannot run or ever, ever escape_

_You cannot run or ever hide it away_

_Something glorious is about to happen_

_The reckoning'_

_Positive Tension_, Bloc Party

Remus thought he knew the story. After so many years, the details were still clear in his mind. He hadn't read it from the pages of one of his beloved books, hadn't poured over every chapter, memorizing every word. No, he'd _lived_ this story. It was ingrained on his body and in his fractured heart, every premature line on his face another sentence, every scar a punctuation.

Every moment of his life had been informed from the events that unfolded on that cold October day in 1981 in Godric's Hollow, when James and Lily lost their lives trying to protect their son. He thought he knew who was to blame and had lived his life trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Sirius was the spy, but as he stared at Marauder's Map, watching Harry, Hermione and Ron make their way back to the safety of the castle (after leaving it to console a friend), the tiny dot and adjoining letters that accompanied them spelling out what couldn't be true, Remus realized he didn't know the story at all.

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There is always a moment in time when things seem to come together, seemingly on their own, to form a picture in front of you you'd always been looking at but hadn't been able to see because it was distorted, either by someone else or your own inability to perceive, the image suddenly clear.

For Sirius, this had happened only a few times in his life – when he was a boy and he realized his parents beliefs, more sinister than he'd ever realized, were clearly not his own, when he was a teenager and realized that his mate was, in fact, a werewolf, and as he stood in the deserted lane in Godric's Hollow and gazed upon the smoking ruins where James and Lily's house once stood and realized they had been betrayed by the one person they least suspected to be the spy – Peter.

Air out of his lungs, heart squeezed by an invisible fist in his chest, he dropped to his knees as he approached the rubble that had once been bricks and mortar, wheezing desperately as a sob caught in his throat. The thought of James and his family trapped underneath seemed to bring him to his senses, and he willed himself to breathe and moved through the wreckage, picking up chunks of plaster and bits of furniture, calling out James and Lily's names. Then he heard it. The sound of a baby crying, muffled somewhere underneath the debris, and frantically, he searched until the crying became clearer, stronger, louder. Then the baby boy was in his arms, a gash upon his brow, struggling and wailing and frightened – and, thankfully, alive.

Sirius barely remembered handing Harry over to Hagrid, along with his motorbike, before he Disapparated to the safe house where Peter was supposed to be, the image of James' broken body lying at the bottom of what used to be the stairs, the only thought in his head.

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The name on the map in tiny black letters moved in unison with Harry and his mates. It moved like it was a part of them, the name obscuring the others as they moved. It took a moment for it to sink in, that the name meant what he thought it meant, before he was on his feet and out his office door.

As he crossed the clearing towards the Whomping Willow a few minutes later, Remus stopped and looked around. It was dark, and there was no one there, but he felt sure that Harry, Hermione and Ron had stood where he was standing now. The scent of each of them was still present – and so was something else. Padfoot's scent was everywhere, like a broken bottle of cheap cologne. Remus knew the only way the scent could be so strong was from proximity and strong emotion. Though he hadn't seen a thing, he knew instinctively there had been a struggle.

Every limb burning, he followed the trail towards the hazardous tree -- his tree -- prodded the knot at the roots and forced his weak, aching body into the small opening. He started when he noticed a small pool of blood in a crevice, the scent of it roused something in him, and the sight of it, smeared along the tunnel wall, made him panic.

Was it Harry's? Was he hurt, or worse, was he already dead?

Ignoring his discomfort, he rushed down the tunnel, crouching low on all fours, then scrambled up the stairs as quickly as his body would allow, towards the angry, muffled voices above.

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Sirius had been moving for what felt like days, but in truth, he wasn't really sure how long it had been since he'd set out to hunt for his treacherous mate. The safe house was empty – his belongings gone – like he'd never been there. When Sirius saw it with his own eyes, confirmed what he knew in his head was true, a rage came over him like he had never felt before. It burned him from the inside out, the flames blistering what was left of his heart, scorching his fractured soul.

James and Lily were dead. Murdered by Voldemort, he was sure, but the real culprit, the one who'd sold them to the devil, was still out there, on the run. Sirius _had_ to find him.

He'd tracked the rat numerous places, places he was likely to turn up – and had – always a step behind, but on his trail nonetheless, when he finally stumbled on to the harmless – looking man on a crowded street in London.

Sirius felt his heart race with anticipation, fury and dread as he approached Peter from the opposite side of the street, his wand clutched firmly in his hand and hidden in his cloak, ready to strike.

"Peter, you rat!" he called, catching the small man's attention.

Peter whirled around, his eyes round with fear, guilt and terror all over his rodent – like face. Sirius noticed his hand stuck in the front of _his_ robes, no doubt gripping his own wand tightly, anticipating a fight. It almost made Sirius laugh.

"Why, Peter?" he yelled, inching closer through the muggle crowd. A few of them stopped and gathered to watch.

Peter looked around wildly, his routes for escape closing in around him as more and more muggles gathered to look on curiously.

"Why?" Sirius shouted again, his voice breaking with grief.

"Don't you blame this on me, Sirius Black!" Peter shouted, backing away. "Don't you dare try to pin this on me!"

Sirius couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What?" he shouted, his hand twitching in his cloak. He knew he couldn't do anything – not in the presence of all these muggles.

"You did it!" Peter responded, pushing through the throng, desperate to get away from Sirius. "_You_ betrayed James and Lily! _You_ sold them out to Voldemort!"

The flames that he'd kept at bay seemed to engulf him and the rage he felt surged. "You worthless bastard! You sold them out! You may as well killed 'em yourself!" He whipped out his wand and the crowd gasped.

"Don't kill me too!" Peter went on, stumbling into the crowd in terror.

Sirius was enraged. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a curse flying towards Peter's head, but he was ready.

Sirius saw only a flash of gleaming wood and then a curse cascaded over the crowd, a green burst hit the pavement and earth beneath his feet rumbled. Sirius tried to run but it was no use. The street buckled and chunks of cement went flying over his head, the explosion and the sound of people screaming reverberating in his ears. He scrambled to his feet as muggles pushed and ran into him from all sides in a panic, his eyes scanning the mayhem desperately for any sign of Peter, but he was gone.

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Remus stood in the middle of the room he'd once considered his own, his eyes flickering from the faces of his students – Harry, Hermione and Ron – and around the room past Sirius, looking for any sign of Peter. He heard Sirius' voice – a rough, croaking voice – answering his questions but couldn't really hear what he said, confusion buzzing in his head like a chainsaw, so that he found it hard to focus.

"Remus?" his old mate croaked.

He looked him in the eyes for the first time in almost thirteen years and he knew.

"Where is he, Sirius?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

Sirius lifted a skeletal arm and pointed a bony finger towards Ron Weasley.

_Of course_, he thought, everything in his mind suddenly becoming clear. _The rat_.

Remus finally understood. Peter was the spy.

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As Sirius stumbled around, people scurrying away from him, a sudden popping sound made him turn and he came face to face with a dozen Aurors, all wands trained on him, and then he felt a blast hit him in the shoulder, then another at the knees and he was on the ground once more, bound like a rabid animal.

He struggled, wanting to scream Peter's name, but no sound came from his throat.

"Sirius Black," a voice said. He could see only a pair of scuffed leather boots from his position on the ground. "You sick bastard!" the voice whispered roughly. He saw a boot pull back and he braced himself as he felt a blow to the abdomen, once, twice, until he felt the crack of ribs. He wanted to cry out in pain but again nothing came. No sound, not even a whimper.

"Get him up!" he heard the same rough voice command. A few men scurried towards him. He felt hands on his arms, and then he was jerked upright like a rag doll.

A tall, thin man looked into his eyes, his brows knitted together in a scowl. "Sirius Black," the man said, "you are under arrest by authority of the Ministry of Magic, for treachery and by the looke of it," -- he motioned around at the carnage on the street -- "multiple murder."

Sirius looked at the man, disbelieving. _No_, he thought, _this isn't right_. _It wasn't me_, he wanted to say but he couldn't get his mouth to cooperate, _it was Peter. He's the Death Eater!_

"Another Death Eater for Azkaban," the rough voice attached to the boot drawled. A stalky man walked up to him, puffing out his chest, an evil smirk on his face. "Too bad your '_master_' didn't make it, or he'd be joining you. But don't worry, _Black_," he went on, the name sounding like a dirty word out of the Auror's mouth, "you'll have plenty of company, you can even have a family reunion, what with your cousin and her husband already there." His smirk widened and Sirius felt sick.

"Take him away," the stalky man commanded to the tall, thin man. "I'm tired of looking at this rubbish." He walked away, and Sirius heard him murmur, "a Black. Figures."

The last words broke something inside him. The disbelief and grief were too much. _A Black_. He was a Black. _I was damned the moment I was born, _he thought suddenly, and just as suddenly, his voice came back to him and he began to laugh; quietly, at first, as he realized that Peter, little worthless Peter, had bested him. The soft laughter became louder as the thought played over and over in his mind. _That piece of shite_, he thought, the laughter deepening, _he actually grew some bollocks._ The thought that Peter had fooled them all, cast doubt on Remus – _Remus_, he thought, incredulous, _the only man who ever kept any of us honest_ – had even fooled the great and mighty Dumbledore, and had managed to pin it all on him, was too much for him.

As the Aurors led him away, he began to cackle madly, knowing that his life was over, and Peter, the rat, had finally won.

* * *

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_You won't win this time_, Sirius thought as he spied the rat sticking out its bald little head from the pocket of the red – headed boy. Harry and his stalwart mates had just tiptoed out the back of Hagrid's cabin, and Sirius caught sight of them – and the rat – just before they disappeared underneath the Invisibility Cloak. He'd never expected that Peter would emerge of his own volition, and wasn't surprised that he was using the boy as his own personal shield. But if Peter thought that having Harry and his mates around would deter him from what he'd set out to do, he hadn't known Sirius at all.

Safely ensconced in his animagus form, he crouched low in the grass and followed them, listening for the soft sound of grass crunching underfoot and following the familiar scent of James' son. He got nervous as they inched closer to the castle, carrying the rat further out of his reach. _Damn it_, he thought in frustration, _he can't get away this time. Not now. Not again_.

Then it happened, the chance he'd been waiting months for. The rat shot out from underneath the cloak and scurried across the clearing towards their familiar haunt, the Whomping Willow. Sirius felt a rush of adrenaline as his sleek, black body bounded after the rat, closing the distance between them with enthusiasm and purpose. The rat, surely sensing Padfoot's presence, tried to get away but was too slow for his '_owner_', who emerged from underneath his invisible cover, scooped Wormtail up easily and stuffed him back into his pocket.

Sirius looked into the bewildered eyes of the Weasley boy just before he knocked him to the ground and dug a paw into his chest, feeling a quivering lump under it and feeling a rush of excitement that Peter was still there, trapped like the rat that he was. The boy, unfortunately was not going to cooperate. He began to bellow and squirm. Faced with a dilemma, Sirius knew what he had to do. He lunged for the boy's arm and sunk in his canine teeth, eliciting a howl of pain and gasps from those looking on. But this did little to weaken his resolve. Spying the tunnel opening for the Shrieking Shack just beyond, he bounded towards it, the frightened boy and his quivering pocket in tow, and using every ounce of strength still left in his emaciated, now canine, body, he slid down easily, the boy's arm still clenched firmly between his teeth.

_This is it_, he thought excitedly as he hit the ground and slipped down the small tunnel, drops of blood pooling at the corner of his mouth. _This is it – the reckoning_.

* * *

The night continues in the next chapter... and yes, Sophie will be there... 


	23. Chapter 23: Positive Tension

As promised, the night continues... with a twist...

**Warning**: Violence and a smattering of language (like, one word)... oh, and no beta, so I'm apologizing in advance for any mistakes.

**Disclaimer**: _You_ know I don't own it, _I_ know I don't own it, so now that we've established that...

* * *

**Chapter 23**: Positive Tension 

It never occurred to Sirius, during all that time hiding out in the Forbidden Forest, sneaking through back roads and living as his animal alter ego for months at a time, that there was anything beyond that existence. He had started his journey with the sole intention of keeping Harry from harm, the idea of revenge on the man who'd ruined his life and helped take the lives of Lily and James, always in the back of his mind. That he would gain his freedom from the truth had been like a dim light at the end of a very long tunnel, but now, as he watched the tunnel come to an end, faint light streaming in from above, he couldn't believe it. Freedom was so close, closer than Azkaban, far off in the North Sea, closer than the Dementors roaming the village, closer than his old dorm room near the top of Gryffindor Tower. He could almost smell it, taste it, and for the first time in almost thirteen years, he dared to imagine being free.

Drunk on the heady feeling of impending freedom, walking proudly with his godson at his side, it didn't immediately dawn on him that the light he imagined, though soft and dim, was real. More faint than sunlight, it illuminated the night sky in an eerie sort of way, kissing branches with its subtle glow, making delicate patterns on the grass. It was muted somehow, this light, but as he and Harry spoke, and he watched his loyal mate guarding their prisoner – once their friend – and holding up the injured boy, an odd look settled on his pale face and Sirius realized something was very wrong.

**8888888**

Sophie awoke to the sounds of birds far off in the forest treetops coming through the window and slicing into the silence of the hospital wing like a knife. She noticed the sun sitting low in the sky, preparing to drop them all into darkness, and she felt a pang of anxiety, knowing that the darkness would bring that pale, silvery orb.

How she hated that silvery orb.

As she walked to 'Her' Room, escorted by Madame Pomfrey a few minutes later, the sunset seemed to follow her through the corridors, and she paused to take in the dazzling vermillion sky. It reminded her of blood and oranges, making her suddenly hungry – every part of her, including the wolf. She'd hardly eaten in the last few days and worried her hunger would make the wolf irritable but she moved on at the Healer's insistence and tried to ignore the hollow ache in her stomach.

When the heavy wooden door materialized out of nowhere on the wall that was home to what Sophie considered the most humourous painting in the castle, she thanked the Healer and walked through. The door shut behind her with a firm click but she didn't feel that wave of relief she always felt when locked in for the night. Instead, nausea hit her and she swayed on the spot. Something inside her screamed to her unexpectedly and when she recovered a little from the dizziness, she walked over and wrenched the door open. She didn't know why, but she suddenly needed her father. It was as if an alarm was going off in her gut, telling her it was important for the wolf to be among its pack, or perhaps it was that her pack – the only werewolf she knew – needed _her_. She wasn't sure what she was feeling, only that the urge was too strong to ignore.

She made her way towards his office, careful not to be seen, hoping that her father wouldn't have the strength to send her away. She could hear the argument in her head, her father telling her it was too dangerous, that as the werewolf he couldn't be sure he wouldn't harm her, forgetting that she had as much chance at harming him now that he had the wolfsbane potion in his system and she didn't.

As she approached, the door flew open and she stepped back quickly, pushing her back against the wall and hiding from view. Professor Snape tore down the corridor, a mad, determined look on his face, and disappeared down a flight of stairs.

Sophie sensed the empty room before she stepped in and looked around. The room seemed the same as it always was, save for the large piece of parchment unfolded on the desk and the goblet on the corner, smoking menacingly, full to the brim with the foul, tar – like substance. She couldn't fathom why her father, with only a half hour to spare (at best), would leave the safety of his office. It just didn't make any sense.

She walked around the desk, searching for clues that would help her understand, when her eyes fell over the yellowing parchment spread out on the surface, and was taken aback as she realized what it was.

Hundreds of tiny dots moved around a map of the castle, some huddled together in rooms, others spread apart, and each had a tiny name attached – an initial and a surname – which seemed to fade and darken as her eyes fell on it and moved away. As she gazed upon the magnificent map, she forgot what had led her there, until, pulling the map closer to her, she knocked the goblet to the floor. The thick black potion oozed onto her trainers, and she jumped away and realized that her father hadn't taken his last dose. She dropped to the floor, trying to salvage what she could and place the near – empty goblet on the desk once more. _Fuck_, she thought, angry with herself.

She was in the middle of berating her clumsiness when something on the map caught her eye, and distracted, she leant over for a closer look. The tiny dots on the map faded away and the map seemed to shift, so that she could see the grounds clearly, up until the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where the map seemed to stop abruptly. There on the map, moving rapidly towards the Whomping Willow, was Professor Snape. She watched curiously, intrigued by the movement, until all of a sudden the dot disappeared and she realized that Snape was on his way to the likeliest place her father could be – the Shrieking Shack.

Sophie strode out onto the grounds, careful to stay in the lengthening shadows, the map folded hastily and clutched in her hands. It had helped her out of the castle, providing a safe route, though it had taken much longer to get out unnoticed than she'd anticipated and was almost beside herself with panic. She knew it was more than foolish to be out there, with the moon about to make its appearance, and the logical part of her mind was telling her to turn back, but she couldn't do it. Her father, she was almost sure, was out there, in the Shack, and Snape – the idiot – had followed him for reasons she couldn't grasp. The potions professor knew how dangerous her father would be when the curse took hold. _Was this part of his plan to get rid of us?_ she wondered, _put himself in harm's way and set up my father?_ The thought of it chilled her. She couldn't let her father harm anyone, not even someone as loathsome as Snape. She didn't know how she would protect the man from his own foolish actions; she was close to transformation as well but had been retaining a sense of herself for months and hoped she would be able to retain some control when she needed it most.

Sophie saw the clouds part and the moon, bright and round and full, burst forth with a brilliance she hadn't known was possible. It had been years since she'd glimpsed it, realizing that the last time was on her fourth birthday, the night her father's friends – Harry's parents – died.

It was with this thought in the back of her mind that she unfolded the map and searched it for any sign of her father.

The map from her father's desk, the one that had guided her out, to stand under the moon, its tiny black dots, like nothing she'd ever seen before, told her that her father had exited the Shrieking Shack, bringing up the rear of an odd parade, Harry, Hermione, Ron – and two unlikely names – Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black.

Sophie's first thought was that Pettigrew, who was supposed to be dead, and Black had tricked everyone for nefarious but unknown reasons. How else could it be that her father's old mates were walking together through the castle grounds, the "killer" and his "victim", but then she felt the effects of the moon and all rational thought left her, and she was dimly aware that they were all in trouble.

**8888888**

It happened so fast that Sirius could barely react, soothing words he knew from experience would never work spewing from him – a desperate act of a desperate man who watched as it all unraveled before him, the ball of yarn he'd so patiently wound, the rat he'd so patiently waited for, slipping away into the night once more, his freedom scampering away through the grass.

**8888888**

Sophie began to shake and shudder, unable to tear her eyes away from the celestial sphere hanging above her, mocking her in its pale – faced splendor. She could hear the low, guttural sound building in her head, becoming a feral, forceful growl that told her it was time.

"No!" she screamed, the staccato sound escaping her lips like a desperate prayer. "No!"

She knew she had to fight it; knew somehow she could fend it off (if only for a little while), the wolf that longed to break out, to prowl, to search for flesh and feast.

A short lifetime of never satisfying the thirst for blood and she could sense the others out there, bathed in moonlight – marked by the moonlight – unaware of the danger around them. The danger they forgot because it was wrapped in an untidy package – a professor in a tattered tweed jacket and threadbare trousers, and the curse of the werewolf running through his veins, just as it ran in hers.

Sophie ran towards Harry, who stood yelling Black's name as his mates held him back, and stopped just short when she noticed what was happening just yards away.

Her father was turning, his body shifting with cruel precision into the wolf. She stood, mesmerized by sight of it, a sight she'd never witnessed, as his body mirrored her malady, sprouting hair, morphing limbs and becoming the beast that lived within.

"Sophie!"

A voice cut through the night and she was wrenched from her dazed state. Sirius Black was calling to her, desperation in his hoarse voice, "Get him!" he cried as he struggled with her father, "Get Peter! He can't get away!"

**8888888**

Sirius barely had time to react before the werewolf was before him, snarling with a ferocity he'd almost forgotten, clearly relishing the situation – two boys, a girl and an unconscious victim, to satisfy its appetite.

With a lunge and a growl, Sirius was Padfoot once more, and he knocked his mate to the ground. Sharp teeth punctured his thick hide, stinging and oozing blood, and razor – sharp claws sliced into his muzzle. He yelped but bit back with force, large jaws clamping the werewolf's front leg and dragging him, as he'd dragged the boy, further away from the others, his mind overwrought by the worry that another werewolf was about to break free of its mortal coil. Moony was more feral than he remembered, breaking free and pinning him to the ground, amber eyes glowing in the darkness with malice, preparing to deliver the final blow.

He was vaguely aware of the terrified screams and the movement just beyond the trees that now stood between him and the boy he had vowed to protect, and he imagined that the transformation for Sophie had already begun.

**8888888**

Through the pain and throbbing limbs, Black's words reached her and suddenly she understood. Peter Pettigrew was alive – and he wasn't supposed to be. The only reason for that kind of deception was far worse than anyone could imagine – treachery.

Instinctively, she pounded after him, a pungent scent hitting her as she followed the trail through the grass. She couldn't see him, but she could smell him, and the scent was so familiar it shocked her. It was Weasley's rat, Scabbers. _Of course_, she thought, truth dawning on her, _that's who Black was after_. She wanted to laugh out loud at finally being able to make a connection between what she knew and what she felt but the sound that came from her mouth was less mirthful. The rays of moonlight seemed to follow her as she streaked through the grounds, quickly catching up to her small prey, and she could feel the fur begin to sprout and her leg muscles begin to tear and lengthen.

_No, _she thought desperately, _no, not yet!_

Though she'd been gaining control of her lycanthropy over the past year, she'd never been able to control her transformations during the full moon, but now, as her wand shook wildly in her unsteady hand, she fought back the inevitable with every ounce of will she could muster and cast a Stunner at the moving target ahead.

There was a loud squeak that turned to a terrified scream as she collided with a small man, toppling over him and knocking him to the ground. Her wand flew out of her hand and landed somewhere beyond her reach, her limbs burning with intensity as pain shot through to the tips of her fingers.

She looked into the terrified eyes of the lump of a man under her and recognized the look that swum in the large, blue orbs – guilt.

"You're the one!" she growled, "You're the traitor!"

"No!" he whimpered though his eyes betrayed him, "It was Sirius! He tried to kill us all! Tonight!"

He wriggled and squirmed under her and she moved away in sheer disgust.

"Your father saved us!" he continued, struggling to his feet, "He's a hero!"

She noticed the way he leant to the left. It gave her the impression of a wounded animal and it aroused the wolf within. The staunched transformation began once more as the tiny bones in her delicate hands began to crack and elongate, nails grew long and yellow, and fur sprouted from her scarred, pale skin.

"Let me go!" he begged suddenly. "Let me go before – " but the words caught in his throat as he watched her.

Sophie couldn't fight it anymore. With a stifled groan and a sob, her body completed its transformation, and her mind became clear.

_Kill_.

**8888888**

Padfoot lay bleeding on the ground, the werewolf standing over him menacingly, teeth bared, claws visible, when all of a sudden, a howl ripped through the darkness and the wolf, perking up its ears, lost interest in its canine victim and just as quickly, bounded away.

Sirius struggled to his feet and staggered towards the lake, his blood – soaked clothes torn almost completely from his body, desperate to quell the burning pain of his wounds. He was shivering and bleeding from large gashes on his arms and chest, and the puncture wounds on his shoulders stung with an intense heat. He'd been bitten by the werewolf before, as Padfoot, and knew they weren't dangerous to him when he was in his Animagus form, but they felt the worst and were the hardest to heal and he knew he wouldn't last very long on his feet if he had to endure the pain any longer. He dropped to his knees at the edge of the lake and dunked his hands into the chilly water, brought them up to his lips and sipped. Then he doused the bite on his shoulder, praying for the pain to stop.

The weakened man was gathering his strength to return to where he'd left Harry and wondering if Peter had gotten away, when a cold, creeping dread came over him, and he felt like he had been plunged into the North Sea, his lungs seeming to fill with the cold waters he'd braved in a bid for freedom.

He staggered to his feet and tried to run as the feeling took hold, but it was useless. More than a dozen black, hooded forms glided towards him, coming from all sides, gasping for breath from the frigid air.

_Fight it, _he told himself, _Keep fighting, for Harry!_

But the pain was too much, the cold too overwhelming, and as he struggled for air, all his most anguished memories came rushing into his mind and he felt like his head would burst. He realized a second too late that he was sprawled on the ground, and then something dark blotted out the moon, hovering over him like a death shroud and he felt his dry lips part involuntarily and he knew he was about to die.

**8888888**

The clarity in Sophie's mind was staggering. Never had she felt so sure of herself, so clear about what she was doing and why. There she stood, four paws, a snout and a tail, but still herself somehow.

The werewolf lunged for its victim once more, and knocked the man to the ground easily, his hand catching her eye. There were only four fingers – a stump where the index should be. The sight of it triggered her memory and she recalled what her father had told her at the start of the year on the train to London.

_Take it_, a voice commanded her, _take it as payment, punishment – just take it_.

She raised a paw, extended her claws and swiped at him, a claw snagging on his left ear and pulling him closer. He shrieked and wailed and jerked away, tearing the claw from the flesh, and he lunged for her wand lying abandoned in the grass, grabbed hold of the handle and tried to maneuver it towards him as he lay flat on his front. Sophie had the urge to harm, though somewhere she was aware that the traitor was about to get away. She sprang towards him just as the wand lit up, a spell emitting from its tip, and she bit his bleeding ear, tearing it away and leaving a bloody gaping hole at the side of his head.

The shock on his face was suddenly gone as he transfigured back to his Animagus form and scurried away into the darkness, leaving the werewolf with a bloody ear dangling between its teeth.

* * *

So, what did you think? Satisfying? not? Let me know... 

A/N: The title is the from the same song as the previous chapter. If you listen to the lyrics you'll find it fits perfectly with what Sophie did.

The next chapter continues the same night, as well as touching on the fallout for the Lupin family... I'm hoping to post it soon!


	24. Chapter 24: Alive

**Hi all!**

These chapters keep coming quickly. I'm excited about starting the next part of the story, I have alot of ideas and have bits of future chapters written... This chapter continues with the same night then moves on to the next day...

**A/N**: Just wanted to clarify something in the last chapter. When I described the Maruader's map and how it worked, I borrowed the idea from an essay I read on the HP Lexicon called '_A View of the Map: Understanding How the Marauder's Map Works_' by Steven Beers. I thought it was interesting and wanted to incorporate that into my fic, but it's S.Beers who actually thought up the mechanics.

** Warnings: **none - for now...

Not beta'd, please excuse any mistakes and feel free to point them out...

**Disclaimer**: I am not JK Rowling. This story would be much better written if that were the case. Just borrowing some of my favourite characters. Hope she doesn't mind;)

* * *

**Chapter 24**: Alive 

Sirius awoke with a start, instinctively taking a deep breath and choking as air rushed into his lungs. He rolled over on his side, coughing and gagging, then felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped.

"Stay calm," said the familiar voice, "try to breathe – slowly."

He did as he was told, taking deep breathes until the constricted feeling in his chest went away and he was breathing easier. Calmer, he noticed where he was for the first time. It was an office. He was in the castle.

"Sirius," the voice breathed his name. It sounded strange coming from his former mentor.

"Dumble – dore," he wheezed, his voice sounding more hoarse and less like he remembered.

"Harry and his friends had an interesting tale to tell," said the Hogwarts Headmaster, eyeing Sirius thoughtfully, "is it true?"

Sirius felt a warm rush of relief come over him. _So it wasn't a dream_, he thought, _it really did happen. Harry knows the truth_.

"Yes," he croaked, the word catching in his throat.

"Tell me," said Dumbledore, removing his hand from Sirius' shoulder and digging into his robe pocket. "– after you take this." He pulled out his hand and extended it. Sirius slowly reached out a heavy arm, noticing for the first time he had been placed on a comfortable chair, and the headmaster dropped a tiny vial into his palm. He knew what it was instantly. Veritaserum.

He looked into the old man's inquisitive blue eyes and brought the bottle to his lips, pulled the stopper out with his teeth and drank down the sickly sweet liquid in one gulp. He felt a clarity come over him and all at once he began to speak, the words tumbling out of his mouth as he recounted the night of October 31, 1981 and the night he confronted Peter. He felt the blue eyes burn into his as he told the headmaster the secret about being an Animagus for the first time, then moved on to the night of his escape, skipping over the months hiding out in the Forbidden Forest. He told the headmaster what had just happened only hours ago in the Shrieking Shack. When he was finally done, he felt another wave of relief and realized that tears were streaming down his face. Embarrassed, he quickly wiped them away and waited for the headmaster to speak.

"He got away?" There was a look in the old man's eyes that he had never seen before. Against his will, he shuddered slightly.

Sirius nodded. Then he remembered. The effects of the veritaserum were beginning to wane, so he chose his words carefully. "Remus' daughter," he said, "I - I think she went after him."

Dumbledore gave him a confused look. "Was she – ? " He hesitated.

"No," he answered, seeming to know the question, "she wasn't a werewolf when I saw her…" Saying the words out loud made him realize the peculiarity of what he'd seen. Remus had already transformed when he'd seen her, and he wondered briefly why she hadn't. "How could that be?" he asked aloud, thinking briefly of his encounter with the girl last Halloween and her strange semi - transformation.

"I'm not sure," Dumbledore answered, looking pensive. He seemed to come out of his thoughts and gazed at Sirius once more. "She's not your usual werewolf," he added.

Sirius nodded. He understood clearly. He had never heard of a second – generation werewolf before. They were widely regarded as myth.

Thinking of the girl, his thoughts turned to his mate. "Remus is out there," he stated.

"Yes," Dumbledore acknowledged, "but so is Sophie. From what you've just told me, I feel confident she will keep him in line if necessary."

Sirius nodded once more. He was tired and weak and longed for sleep, but he couldn't relax until he knew his fate. He was about to ask the Headmaster just that, when the older man interrupted.

"Why didn't you tell me the truth all those years ago?" Dumbledore looked at him with burning, inquisitive eyes. They reminded him of all the times he'd been questioned by the Headmaster as a boy.

"I couldn't," he said, shaking his head. Sirius knew he was referring to the time, just after he was arrested, that Dumbledore visited him in Azkaban, and demanded he explain himself. "The Dementors were too strong, I could hardly think, I felt like I was going mad, and then… there you were. I thought I was hallucinating." He looked down at the floor. "Only later did I realize you must have been real. "

"The robe."

Sirius looked up, remembering the woolen robe the old wizard had left him, laid over the bars of his cell. "It helped." It really hadn't but he just didn't know what else to say.

Dumbledore stood silently, as if waiting for Sirius to speak.

"They won't believe Harry," he said miserably, "will they?"

Dumbledore looked at him, expressionless. "No," he answered, "I doubt they will."

"What will happen now?"

The older man, looking so much older than he remembered, yet still the same somehow, gave a weary sigh. "I believe that Severus is on his way to inform the Ministry of your presence in the castle. It is against my wishes. I wanted to speak to you first."

"And?" he asked anxiously.

"They will undoubtedly come for you tonight," the headmaster continued, "perhaps bring a Dementor with them. "

Sirius shuddered, not only at the mention of the dark, loathsome creature, but also at the matter – of – fact expression in Dumbledore's voice. He suddenly wanted to run, and made a sudden movement but the Headmaster moved to block him and placed both hands firmly on his shoulders.

"Don't panic, Sirius," Dumbledore said soothingly, "Your fate is not decided yet."

He straightened up and let go of Sirius slowly, as if testing to see if he would bolt for the door. Sirius stayed still, more out of sheer exhaustion than anything else.

"Now that I know the truth, I will do all I can to help you," he said, patting him on the shoulder, "Just wait here."

The Headmaster swept out of the office and locked the heavy door behind him, leaving Sirius alone in the dark. He stood slowly, feeling every muscle ache, his wounds and gashes throbbing, all of it telling him he was alive.

"I'm alive," he whispered to himself, drawing in a ragged breath. Hearing it aloud gave him little consolation.

He walked to the small window, sitting high up on the wall and looked out at the dark sky. The moon shone brightly and seemed close enough to touch.

"Remus, where are you?" he wondered aloud.

He wished the moon wasn't full, that his mate was there to help him now. His mates had always helped him out of trouble when he was a boy, and even when he made foolish mistakes, James and Remus (and, to an extent, Peter) stood by him. Now James was gone and Peter had turned out to be the worst kind of friend – all he had left was Remus, but even Remus, with all his intelligence and quick – thinking, couldn't help him now.

Leaning against the cold, stone wall, Sirius sighed and slid to the floor, his body suddenly as heavy as his heart, as he settled on the cold, grey stone to quietly await his fate.

**8888888**

"Sophie?"

She heard her name through the haze of sleep.

"Miss Lupin?"

Something about the sound of her last name, so formal and dry, made her open her eyes. It took her a moment to realize she was back in the castle in the hospital wing . A woman stood by her bedside, wearing a long slate grey cloak and looking austere.

"Who are you?" she asked, sitting up suddenly. She realized quickly it was a mistake. Her body screamed in pain and she let out a guttural groan.

The woman backed away a little, looking fearful, but hastily composed herself. "My name is Jocelyn White," she said stepping forward, "I'm with the Ministry for the Department of Magical Creatures."

Sophie felt suddenly panicked.

"What do you want?" she snapped. The full moon was clear in her mind.

"Do you remember the events of last night, Miss Lupin?"

She did. She was terrified.

"Last night? she asked blankly. She wasn't about to give anything away.

"Miss Lupin," she said soothingly, "the Ministry is aware you are a werewolf, so you've no need to be afraid. I've spoken to your father, as well as the Headmaster, and I have no doubt in my mind as to the facts as they have relayed them to me. I just need to hear it from you."

Sophie was suddenly aware there so many things she didn't know about the night before. She remembered her own actions well enough, from '_acquiring_' the ear to finding her father in the forest. She'd accompanied him back to the Shrieking Shack just before dawn, and after transforming back to her human form, she'd dressed in her torn, tattered clothing (which she'd went back to look for after locating her father), and crawled into the old, broken bed, calling to her father who was one floor below to check that he was conscious, and promptly fell asleep.

She didn't know what had happened to everyone else; she only knew that when she'd returned to the spot where she'd left them, injured and frightened, they were gone. She wanted to ask what had happened to Harry, Hermione and Ron, but most of all she wanted to know what happened to Sirius Black – and the ear, which she hadn't been able to find, either. Looking at the Ministry official, with her tightly wound bun and her severe, minuscule glasses, she knew she was the wrong person to ask.

"So tell me, Miss Lupin," the woman said, ignoring the faraway look on Sophie's pallid face, "when did first meet your father?"

"What?" Sophie was very confused.

Just then, her father appeared from the other side of the blue curtained screen.

"Miss White," he said, his voice hoarse and harsh as he limped towards her bed, "I was under the impression that I answered your questions satisfactorily." Though he looked deathly ill, the irritation was still evident on his face.

"Well, yes, Mr. Lupin," she responded, sounding annoyed, "but I just wanted to speak to your daughter. As you know, this is a highly unusual circumstance, and I wouldn't want to go back to my superiors without crossing the _t_'s and dotting the _i_'s."

Her father maneuvered himself between Sophie and Miss White, draping a heavily bandaged arm protectively over Sophie's shoulders. "My daughter has been through enough. She needs to rest."

The Ministry official looked at him with a suddenly hard expression. "That's all well and good, Mr. Lupin," she said, "but from what you've told me, your daughter's mother may be in real trouble with the Ministry. I just want to make sure your daughter understands."

"What is she talking about?" Sophie asked her father, only half – understanding what the woman was implying.

"I believe Miss – _White_, is it? – is trying to say that she intends to charge your mother for giving you life, _as if_ that's a crime. Isn't that right, _Miss White_?" Madame Pomfrey was standing where her father had appeared by the curtain, looking livid.

"There are restrictions on the breeding of dark creatures for a reason, Madame," the woman said coldly.

Sophie was struck by the word 'breeding'. It made her sound like an animal. She looked at her father, who stood stiffly by her side, refusing to look her way.

"I'm aware of that, but that has nothing to do with Miss Lupin." Madame Pomfrey responded, stepping forward and straightening her back, indignant. "She is a sweet, intelligent young woman, who is afflicted once a month, like her father, with a curse. Every other day of the month she is a talented, gentle witch."

She felt her father's fingers dig into her shoulder, his body reacting to the Healer's kind words. Sophie felt oddly embarrassed, having never heard herself spoken of that way.

Miss White looked like she was about to back down, but suddenly stiffened her back as well. "That may be," she cooed, speaking with a mock patient tone, "but it doesn't change the fact that Eris Sloane broke the law when she gave birth."

"Since when is bringing a child into the world a crime?" the Healer asked, incredulous and even angrier.

"Since the child is an aberration that should not exist!"

The silence that followed those words was unlike anything Sophie had experienced. Her father's jagged nails dug into her shoulder painfully but she was barely aware of it, too occupied by a breathless feeling like she'd just been kicked in the gut.

"That's quite enough!"

Dumbledore swept past Madame Pomfrey, looking outraged. He quickly stepped in front of her father and turned towards the Ministry official.

"Professor Lupin has explained how he was blessed with this child, and I indulged your questions but that is enough! You will leave my school immediately!"

The severe – looking woman seemed to cower at Dumbledore's words. Even Sophie felt herself instinctively shrinking from the Headmaster, whom she'd never seen so angry in all her years at Hogwarts.

"I have every right to be here," she responded with a quivery voice, though she puffed up indignantly, "I'm doing my job."

"You have done your job, Miss White," Dumbledore seemed to boom, though his voice was no louder than usual, "but now you've crossed the line. It seems to me a witch in your line of work should have more compassion for the people she deals with but you, Miss White have all the compassion of a kumquat!" Dumbledore paused, and seemed to get a hold of his temper. "Now if you'll kindly remove yourself – "

He took the woman gently by the arm and began to sweep her away.

"But, but – " Sophie heard her stammer.

"Good day, _Miss White_," Madame Pomfrey said in sing - song, smiling at the sight of Dumbledore pulling the woman from the room. The Healer's satisfied expression changed when she laid eyes on Sophie. "Don't listen to that woman, dear," she said soothingly, "she's an ignorant troll."

Sophie felt her father's fingers loosen as he moved away. "I think it's best that she gets used to that," he said, addressing the Healer and ignoring her, "now that people know she is a werewolf."

She was taken aback by her father's callous tone. It was one thing for a stranger to insult her, but to have her father suggest that she learn to live with it was worse.

Madame Pomfrey just stared at her father, unsure how to respond. "Well," she finally stammered, "just so you know, dear, not everyone thinks that way. Some of us," she continued, addressing her father once more, "are more enlightened." The Healer moved around her bed, fussed over her for a few minutes and then announced she was well enough to go back to her dorm, then caught herself. She quickly hustled away, feigning the needs of other patients.

Sophie knew by the Healer's reaction that going back to her dorm was not an option anymore. Her father, in few words, acknowledged her suspicion.

It seemed the Board of Governors, upon being informed by a parent about a werewolf attending Hogwarts (as well as a Professor), immediately demanded the student be removed for the "safety of the other students." Sophie wasn't surprised, but it only added to her hurt feelings. He also told her that he was required by the Ministry to take to the Werewolf Liason office within thirty days to be officially registered. The thought of that depressed her further.

She pushed that aside when her father, sitting with some effort by her bed (and avoiding her eyes), told her what had transpired the night before. She finally understood when he told her about Peter Pettigrew framing Sirius all those years ago, and how, after selling James and Lily Potter out to Voldemort, he faked his death to cover his tracks. She knew that he'd gotten away but hoped the ear would lead to his capture.

"Professor Dumbledore has the ear," her father informed her when she finally had the chance to ask. "He will surrender it to a trusted member of the Ministry in a few days."

"Am I in trouble?" she asked. The question had been nagging at her since she awoke and feared that was why the Ministry official was there – to arrest her for attacking a wizard (even if that wizard was a criminal).

"Well, seeing as the Minister for Magic refused to believe the truth, he denied the ear existed," her father answered, pacing in frustration, "even when the Headmaster dangled it in his face."

"So what's going to happen to it?" she asked, confused once more.

"The head of the Auror department, man by the name of Rufus Scrimgeour, has agreed to take the evidence. He'll conduct his own in – house investigation, seeing as it involves his office."

How so?"

Her father looked exhausted but he ploughed on. "Aurors have been tasked with hunting Sirius down," he explained, "it's in his best interest to make sure his people are hunting the right person."

Sophie felt a little relieved at the news but still had questions about her fate at Hogwarts. Her father answered her the best he could, telling her about a hearing scheduled in three days' time with the Board of Governors to decide whether she would be allowed to continue on at Hogwarts, then promptly informed her he was leaving later that morning.

"I've resigned," he told her, finally looking her in the eyes.

She was taken aback by the emotion that flickered, only for a brief moment, in his eyes. She understood why he had avoided looking at her. She was possibly the only person in the world who could read him with a look. She didn't say a word, wasn't even sure what she could say, but she moved out of bed, despite his protests, and gently wrapped her arms around him. It had been so long since she'd hugged her father, she relished it, lingering overly long, until he gently pushed her away.

He reached into his coat pocket, extracted a beige envelope and handed it to her. "Look inside," he instructed her, "there's something in there for you."

She sat on the edge of the hospital bed and unfurled a small sheet of parchment tucked between the folds of another. "Who's it from?" she asked, questioning him with furrowed brows.

"Read it," he urged.

**_Dear Sophie,_**

**_It seems strange to address you like a friend, since we've never really spoken as such, but I feel it's appropriate to call you my friend. Only a friend would have done what you did, risking everything to get Pettigrew. Please don't feel bad that all you managed to snag was an ear -- that ear may be my ticket to freedom. It was a very brave and foolhardy thing to do - it's good to see you have a little Marauder spirit in you._**

**_Thank you, not only for what you did last night, but caring enough to ask the question. It is obvious you have great love and respect for your father. _**

**_Please take care of your old man, he's looking a little ragged around the edges. I hope the next time we meet, we can celebrate my freedom over a juicy porterhouse steak, my treat. _**

**_Sincerely,_**

**_Sirius_**

**_P.S. You can bring the old man along. I seem to recall his fondness for steak. _**

When Sophie finished reading the short letter, she looked up at her father and she was surprised to see him smiling. "I think you have a fan in my mate," he said, his eyes lighting up momentarily. She chuckled.

"I have to go," he added, out of the blue.

Sophie didn't need to ask him any questions. She was almost sure she knew what he felt he had to do.

"Will you back in time for the hearing?" she asked.

"I will." He stood up slowly and closed the distance between them, placing a tender kiss on her forehead. "I promise."

* * *

I know, it ends rather abruptly... 

I'm planning on the next chapter being Remus/Sirius - centric... assuming I stick to my plan (only the monkey on a typewriter in my head knows for sure)...

I hope this chapter was satisfying. Let me know, if it pleases you... and since I'm on the subject, I just wanted to thank those of you who review regularly. Just a few simple words of encouragement means a lot. :)

**BTW**, the title is an oldie but, in my opinion, goody (admitting that made me feel suddenly old), by Pearl Jam. The chorus is simple - 'I_'m still alive_' - and so apt...

See you for the next chapter!


	25. Chapter 25: All Apologies

**Hi!**

The chapters keep coming... nothing much to say, except, hope you like it... R & R and let me know...

**Warnings:** not much, just a curse word here and there... BTW, not beta'd and proofread in the wee hours of the morning, so apologies to all if something doesn't make sense. I tried...

**Disclaimer: **Have not just been on a whirlwind tour, outing characters and signing autographs, so am not JK Rowling. Just a lowly fangirl with an HP obsession. **  
**

* * *

**Chapter 25**: All Apologies 

Although there would be no official decision as to whether or not Sophie would be allowed to stay, as she packed her trunk in her dorm room later that afternoon, she couldn't help but feel that her life at Hogwarts was coming to and end.

The walk back to Gryffindor Tower from the hospital wing had been a harrowing experience. By the time Sophie had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, she'd been gawked at, avoided, called a "filthy half – breed" (among other insults), and pointed and whispered about repeatedly. On the verge of tears when she entered the Common Room, she dashed past a waiting group of fellow Gryffindors, who called to her as she disappeared up the stairs. Miss White's words, harsh but measured, seemed tame in comparison to what she'd experienced in a matter of a few minutes.

She was relieved when she entered the dorm room and found it empty, afraid of seeing fear – or worse, loathing – on her dorm mate's faces had they been there. Alone, she finally let the tears she'd been holding back flow, and moved around the room collecting her things by hand (she was too upset to concentrate on any spells to help her pack), dropping them haphazardly into her battered trunk.

Her mind was a jumble of thoughts and fears. She wondered why her fellow classmates had been together, when most of the school was outside or on their way outdoors. They'd called her name and tried to stop her, but none of them had followed her upstairs. Had they been waiting for her? Where they a self – appointed mob, waiting to surround her and toss her out?

Distracted by her thoughts, she dropped to her knees and began to root around on the floor, extracting things from underneath her four – poster without really thinking about it. Anything she couldn't find a place for usually ended up stuffed under her bed. She pulled out old t - shirts, a few books and then she reached in the dark and felt it – a large white rectangular box, the white satin ribbon it had been adorned with, crushed under it. She pulled it out slowly, stared at it, and sighed. It was the dress Sirius had sent her for Christmas. At the time, she'd questioned his motives for sending her such an extravagant gift. Now, she thought she understood.

She threw off the lid, pulled out the dress and laid it gingerly on her unmade bed. The dress, silky white, hung over the side like a shapeless sack. The _All Occasion Every Figure Flatterer_ did not look like it could possibly live up to its name. But the dress was just like her. It looked plain and innocent enough, but transformed into something completely unexpected. The difference was that the dress could be beautiful; she could not.

Sophie stared at the dress, wondering where she would ever wear it, and if it could be sold back to the store it had been ordered from, when the bedroom door creaked open and Alicia and Katie stepped through.

**8888888**

Remus felt like he'd been traveling for days, though in truth, he'd only been Disapparating and Apparating for the last three hours, zigzagging around the country and beyond its borders, intent on hiding his trail.

If it hadn't been for the fact that the full moon had been the night before, he wouldn't have minded the extra effort it took him to be able to meet with Sirius before his friend went into hiding. As if was, though, he was starting to worry he would splinch himself any second.

He'd just Apparated to another faintly familiar location, just as Sirius had instructed him in the letter, when he was surprised by a familiar voice.

"Took you long enough."

Remus twirled around, pointed his wand instinctively, and let a curse fly. The spell hit the cave wall, causing a large gash.

"Oi! That could've been my head!" Sirius looked from the gash in the stone to Remus.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

They stood looking at each other in wonder, before Sirius closed the distance between them and pulled him into a hug. It felt odd for Remus to be embraced like a brother. It reminded him of the last time he'd received this kind of gesture from a friend. It had been James, a week before he died.

When Sirius finally pulled away, Remus saw him up close and had to fight the urge to recoil. Sirius, his once – charming, striking mate looked older than his father?, just before he died. It broke his heart to see his mate's time – ravaged form, but he noticed a familiar spark in Sirius' eyes. No matter what he looked like on the outside, the little boy was still in there somewhere -- Remus just knew it.

"Merlin, mate," Sirius croaked out, "you look like fucking shite." There was the familiar matter – of – fact character to the words, softened slightly by the impish smile. It made Remus want to burst out in laughter.

"Well, not all of us can keep our looks," he responded, without thinking.

Sirius lost his smile and Remus realized it had been a terribly cruel thing to say, considering Sirius looked nothing like the handsome man he'd once been, and he must have known it. He panicked a little and began to think of a way to soften the blow to his mate's ego (if he even had one left), when the smile sprung onto Sirius's face and he began to howl with laughter.

Remus smiled and laughed softly, the guilt over his gaffe eased a little by the reaction.

"Same ol' Moony," he said, chuckling softly, his raucous laughter gone, "always quick with the witty repartee."

"And I see you haven't lost your twisted sense of humour," he replied, shaking his head.

_Honestly_, he thought, _he'll never grow up_.

He was caught off guard by the easy manner in which they had slipped into their roles, complete with his own little thoughts on the subject. It was a little peculiar if he thought about it.

"So," Sirius looked at him expectantly, "did you bring me something?"

"Oh, yes, of course." Remus reached into his pocket and extracted a mokeskin pouch. He handed it to his mate.

Sirius grabbed it off him and pulled out a steak and kidney pie, a plate of mashed potatoes, and a loaf of bread and two bottles of butterbeer.

"It was all I could get my hands on," he explained as Sirius dropped to the ground and began to devour the meal.

"Mmmhhgggrhhh," Sirius said between bites.

Remus couldn't help but smile, despite knowing it was probably Sirius' first meal in days. "Glad you approve," he responded, glad the mood was light.

"Thanks, mate," Sirius said more clearly, having swigged down half a bottle of butterbeer. "This is the best meal I've had in months." He smiled, revealing bits of food and rotted teeth. "Pull up a patch of dirt," he went on, gesturing for Remus to join him on the ground.

Remus nodded and, with some effort, managed to sink down to the cool ground. His bones and muscles tingled uncomfortably but he tried his best to ignore it.

"I thought we were going to meet at the last place on the list," he commented.

"Naw," Sirius answered as he finished off the last of the potatoes, "just had to make sure you weren't followed."

"I wasn't," he answered, "I made sure of that." He didn't mention the Auror stationed at the castle gates, waiting to follow him, or how with Dumbledore's help, he eluded the man fairly easily.

"Good." Sirius downed the last of the bread and drained his bottle of butterbeer. "I'll save this one for later," he said, holding up the other and then sticking it into his pocket.

They sat upon the dusty earthen floor of the cave in silence. Finally, Remus spoke.

"I didn't get a chance to say it, mate," he began, an apology on the tip of his tongue.

"Don't," Sirius jumped in, "all's forgiven." He gave a strained smile. "Isn't it?"

Remus sensed that Sirius was still carrying the guilt of suspecting him as the spy.

"Of course it is," he responded sincerely. He couldn't hold it against Sirius.

"I didn't know why you were, you know, distant, back then, but now…"

Remus turned, stifling a groan of pain as a stitch ran through his side. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Your daughter."

Remus felt a wave of shame come over him. "I, uh, didn't know about her back then," he told him honestly.

Sirius gave him a skeptical look.

"I didn't find out about Sophie until a few days after…" The words stuck in his throat.

"Really?" Sirius asked.

He nodded, looking away. He stared at the gash he'd made in the cave wall as he gathered his thoughts. Then he launched into the tale of how Eris had shown up on his doorstep with Sophie as he grieved the loss of his friends. The words tumbled out, having never been said out loud before, and he let them come, feeling a sense of release as he spoke. He told Sirius everything he'd never told anyone else – some things he'd never even told Sophie, and when he was done, he felt free.

**8888888**

"Oh," Katie mumbled as she laid eyes on Sophie. (Sophie noted the fear in them.) "We didn't know you were here."

"Well, I won't be, much longer," she responded, resentment taking hold of her, "I'm just packing to go." She turned deliberately and fumbled in the empty drawer of the night table just for something to do.

"What do mean, you're leaving?" Alicia asked, walking up to the foot of Sophie's bed. She watched from the corner of her eye as her roommate leant against a bedpost casually.

Sophie shut the empty drawer quickly and turned to face Alicia. Katie, still by the door, was eyeing her wearily. . She felt the lycan part of her stir, anger seeping to every part of her.

"I mean exactly that!" she snapped. "The Board of Governors doesn't want to jeopardize the '_safety of the students', _so they've asked me – _very nicely_, " she added sarcastically, "to get the _fuck_ out of the castle." She took a breath but the look on Katie's face only added to her anger. "I'm an animal, you see," she went on, "a _dark creature_, a _half – breed_, and no one wants one of those sleeping under the same roof with _them_." She looked pointedly at Katie. "Don't you agree?"

Katie stepped back towards the door but said nothing.

"Have you been expelled?" Alicia asked.

Though she was seething, Sophie noticed the concern in her voice. It calmed her a little, and made her feel a little ashamed.

"No," she said defiantly. She suddenly felt terribly guilty.

"You mean they're letting you stay?" The indignant incredulity in Katie's voice ebbed away the guilt and shame. It infuriated her.

"If they're anything like _you_, then you have nothing to worry about," she answered, straightening her back and walking around her large four – poster. "And if you're lucky, you'll never have to see me again."

She walked towards the frightened girl, aware that her movements were bordering on animalistic, but she didn't care.

Katie backed into the closed door and jumped when she realized there was nowhere to go. She looked on the verge of tears.

"Sophie!"

She backed down, and turned to see Alicia looking at her with disappointment in her eyes. The wave of shame crashed over her once more.

"I know you're upset," she said, "but it's not _our_ fault." She walked up to Katie and gently pulled her by the arm, closer to Sophie. "Just because _they_ think that way doesn't automatically mean everyone else does, too."

"But Katie does," she said in a small voice, "don't you." It wasn't a question but a statement.

"I, I… I don't know," Katie answered, her voice equally small.

Alicia fixed their roommate with a glare, but went on. "Well, _I_don't feel that way," she said, looking Sophie in the eyes. "Neither does Fred or George, or Lee," she went on, "and I even heard Harry Potter and Granger and the other Weasley saying good things about you earlier."

Sophie felt a pang of hope at her roommate's words.

"Your father's the best DADA teacher we've ever had," she continued, gathering steam, "and no one who realizes that cares that he's a werewolf, so why do you think they'd care about you being one, too?"

Sophie didn't know what to say. It was completely unexpected, especially coming from someone who hadn't spoken to her in months.

"I'm dangerous," was all she could think to say.

Alicia fixed her with an unreadable look. "Only once a month," she stated.

"And during a blue moon," Sophie added, aware that Katie was staring dumbfounded between them.

"And since that only happens, like, every two and a half years, you're really only dangerous about twelve times a year." Alicia gave a self – satisfied smirk.

"I guess," she answered, unsure, "but it won't matter to the Governors."

"Maybe not," Alicia agreed, "but if all your friends stand by you and let them know we don't feel threatened by you, it could change their decision."

Alicia looked at her with hope and certainty gleaming in her eyes. It made her feel, if only for a moment, that anything was possible, but then she recalled what her father had told her as a child, about people's perceptions changing once they knew of the curse, and the hope dwindled away.

"Would you stand up for me?" Despite being aware of the reality of the situation, Sophie couldn't help but ask.

"Of course," Alicia answered, "and if you'd give some of the others half a chance, you'd see I'm not the only one."

It dawned on Sophie that Alicia and Katie walking into the dorm in the middle of the day, when each was usually off doing their own thing, was not a coincidence at all (at least not on Alicia's part). The congregation of her mates in the Common Room she'd passed on the way up from the hospital wing seemed less likely to be coincidence as well.

"So," she finally found her voice, "did the twins put you up to this?"

Alicia cracked a smile and Katie looked a little confused. "It's not clear whose plan it was, actually," she said, "we all just wanted to let you know it doesn't matter to us you're a werewolf."

"Yeah," a voice came in from the other side of the closed door, "we don't care."

"That's right," came another, sounding like it was coming from an old speaker, "now get down here!" It was Fred.

"We can't get up there, remember?" added George.

Alicia and Sophie looked at each other before they broke out into laughter.

"How did they – "

"No idea," answered Alicia, shrugging her shoulders and chuckling. "What do you reckon?" she went on, "you up for it?"

Sophie looked at her side of the room. It was empty now, save for her old trunk with its lid hanging open and the dress on her bed. She picked her wand up off the bed and with a little wave, the dress folded in half and dropped into the trunk, then the lid swung shut and the lock clicked firmly in place. She didn't have much time until she had to meet McGonagall by the main doors to be escorted to the village inn (where she would be staying until her hearing) but she suddenly felt like company.

"Okay."

Alicia took her by the hand and held out her other to Katie. Katie, avoiding Sophie's gaze, shook her head, turned around and walked out of the room. Alicia made to follow her, but Sophie pulled her back.

"Leave her," she said, trying not to feel hurt, "it doesn't matter."

Alicia gave her a skeptical look but shrugged her shoulders once again, seeming to accept Sophie's decision of letting Katie go without a fight. She then led Sophie back down to the Common Room to a small group of loyal friends to say goodbye.

**8888888**

"So, you're telling me you had no idea that Eris was pregnant back then."

Remus sighed, his patience worn thin, but answered his mate's question yet again. "No clue."

Sirius' face finally lost the look of incredulity that had been plastered into the premature lines. "Hmm," he mused. He got a faraway look on his face.

Remus shifted a little on the ground, his bottom starting to tingle from sitting in one position too long. He wondered how long they'd been sitting there, each telling the other about the last thirteen years of their lives, the conversation coming round to Sophie once more, and figured it would soon be time for Sirius to go.

"I can honestly say, she's the best thing that's ever happened to me." He'd never said this out loud either, and it felt good to tell someone who would really understand.

"Getting involved with Eris Sloane, getting her pregnant, was a good thing?" Sirius asked him, subtle skepticism in his tone.

"It was painful," he said, "and probably the biggest mistake of my life." He went on, "and the best."

"Only you, Moony," Sirius said with a lopsided grin, "could benefit from your '_biggest mistake_'."

Remus chuckled. It was so true.

"I should have been there for you," Sirius said suddenly. "James and Lily should have known your daughter, we both should have been a part of Harry's life." His grin was gone and the faraway look had been replaced with something much more troubling.

"I know," he agreed. It was all he could do. It was true, after all.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them, the distant hooting of an owl finally breaking it.

"It must be after dark," Remus said, pushing himself up to his feet. His legs shook a little under his weight but he steadied himself with a firm hand on the cave wall.

Sirius watched him with concern, though he made no move to get up until Remus was standing. It struck him that his mate remembered how he hated to be treated like an invalid after the full moon.

"Where will you go?" He knew he shouldn't ask.

"Not sure," Sirius answered, dusting off his raggedy clothes, "somewhere that's not _at all_ like Azkaban." He gave a rueful smile at the word.

"You_will_ write, won't you?" Remus asked. He felt a lot like the last day of term before summer vacation his first year.

"I'll try." An owl flew into the cave and landed on Sirius' shoulder. "Dumbledore," he said, as he untied the small note attached to its leg. He glanced over it quickly then cupped it in his hands, setting the small bit of parchment on fire with a spell. "It's time."

Remus nodded and walked to the mouth of the cave alongside his mate. He felt like he was losing the friend he'd just found again.

"Best to get to me through Dumbledore," Sirius said, stopping at the entrance, "if you need to get in touch."

Remus nodded again, finding himself at a loss for words. He didn't want to say goodbye. The words would make it feel too permanent.

"Stay safe."

Sirius only nodded, then pulled him into an embrace, lingering a little longer than the first. He pulled away, his grey eyes shining, and stepped out into the night, transforming mid – step into Padfoot, then bounded away into the dark.

* * *

I tried for some humour this chapter to lighten the mood, especially with 2/4 of the Marauders, but didn't want to go into a detailed conversation between Remus and Sirius just yet. Expect _that_ to be heavy...

The next chapter looks to be the one I've sort of been dreading writing/posting... but I'm determined to stick with the idea, so... expect uncomfortable, squirmy, sad, etc, next chapter... or not. You never know with me...

**BTW**, the title is a Nirvana song (I've been listening to the music that got me through my teen years lately for inspiration).

Chapter 26 coming soon!


	26. Chapter 26: Precious Things

A/N: This chapter was difficult to write. I struggled with this idea for a while and after reading the last book, decided to just go with it. R & R and let me know how you feel about it.

Warning: this chapter contains sexual violence... if you find that offensive, don't read. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: The Potterverse is not mine. Anything you recognize belongs to Rowling.

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**Chapter 26**: Precious Things 

If Sirius had to really be honest with himself, he'd admit the tiny pang of jealousy he'd felt come over him as Remus had talked about his daughter. Despite how she'd come into his life, Remus had been able to have what James and Lily hadn't, and what he doubted he ever would.

Sophie, the tall, lithe girl he'd first seen last summer, was more than just an extension of his mate, she was something entirely separate, born out of the embers of his relationship with Eris, born with a curse, yet wholly beautiful in a way that he couldn't put into words.

He felt for her much like the way he felt for Harry – to Sirius they were similar, except for one difference. For all his resemblance to his parents – not only in looks but personality – Harry had been shaped into the boy he was by people who hadn't deserved the privilege.

With Sophie it was different. In Remus, she had a loving parent. He'd been there for her, watching over her, teaching her, caring for her, and letting her know she was loved. Harry did not. He'd been loathed most of his life and had been treated cruelly by his aunt and uncle. As his godfather, Sirius felt it was up to him to make sure Harry got the love and care he deserved. This, he believed, was more than his obligation. It was _his_ privilege, and he intended to fulfill it. He just, for the life of him, didn't know how he would do it.

As Sirius traveled southwards on the back of the rescued hippogriff, he couldn't help feel that Remus and Sophie's troubles were just beginning, and he couldn't help but feel the stab of guilt at having been the cause. Even though he doubted Remus could see the extent of it, despite his uncanny talent at foresight, it was only a matter of time before trouble caught up with them and took over their lives. Sirius hoped he was wrong because, much like the situation with Harry, he wouldn't be able to help them. Remus was his only friend in the world, the only person who really knew him, but as long as he was still considered a murderer, he would always be hiding out and on the run. He would always be apart from the ones he loved, and he wouldn't be able to do what he'd promised his mates years ago – be there. The knowledge of _that_ hurt more than the last thirteen years of his life.

**8888888**

The walk to the front doors of the castle had been much more different for Sophie than the walk to Gryffindor Tower earlier that day. For one, she hadn't been alone. Fred and George had volunteered to help her with her trunk to the waiting carriage, and they'd accompanied her down the same corridors, her trunk swaying ominously in every direction as they levitated it all the way down. They'd cracked jokes, tried to distract her from dirty looks that other students sent her way, and even sent a few subtle curses towards more vocal offenders, all in the name of being her friends.

She'd been grateful that her friends (some of them, at least) had been accepting of what she was. Even though it didn't change what had happened, or what was about to, it made all the difference in the world to her. She was even more grateful the twins had taken it upon themselves to accompany her to the carriage (despite her protests and aversion to saying goodbye), especially when Tristan Cates came through the doors with a group of his Slytherin cohorts.

"I see that fool of a headmaster has come to his senses," he said loudly to his mates when he spotted her, "finally getting rid of some of the rubbish." He stepped towards her, a smug, triumphant look on his face – a look she knew meant something more – and eyed her with disdain before he turned his mocking gaze to the twins. "Is she taking you two with her?," he asked, "Because she'll probably need a bite to eat next full moon." He smiled wickedly as his mates guffawed.

Fred stepped up to Cates, shoving his face up to the older prefects, while George subtly pointed his wand at his side. "Fuck off, Cates," he offered, smiling rather wickedly, too. It made Sophie nervous.

"That's a detention for you, _Weasley_," Cates snapped, losing his temper rather quickly.

"Are you mental? School's done in a few days and there's no more classes," George piped up, his wand twitching in his hand. Sophie threw him a pleading look and he unclenched his hand reluctantly.

"Well then, you can both serve it first thing in September," he answered as McGonagall appeared at the top of the tall staircase in her tartan traveling cloak, "I'll be sure to let the Professor know."

Sophie eyed him with disgust. He was everything she loathed and she'd be damned if he got his way, just as he had with Jimmy McGiffert. She leaned in conspiratorially towards him as his mates and the twins traded insults, the professor coming closer and now in hearing distance.

"And I'll let her know what you've been up to," she murmured, making sure only Cates could hear her.

"Just try," he shot back, scoffing. "As if _anyone_ would believe _you_."

The tone of his voice stung her more than it should and angered every part of her.

"Maybe not," she whispered, before she knew what she was going to say, "but they'll believe the letters _Jimmy_ wrote," she paused long enough to see the smugness on his face vanish, "the ones where he details _everything_ you've made him do since September." She really didn't know much more than a few details, but the lie came easily. The look of fear on his suddenly pallid face told her she'd hit a nerve.

By the time Cates tried to respond, Professor McGonagall was already sending the Slytherins away and scolding the twins for what she'd overheard. He stopped mid-word, leaving a syllable hanging in the air and then walked away slowly, looking back at Sophie with an unreadable but chilling look on his face.

Before Sophie had the chance to wonder if she'd gone too far, the twins were wrapping their Quidditch – toned arms tightly around her and assuring her they would see her at the hearing in three days. Then she was ushered into a waiting carriage by a thin – lipped McGonagall, and watched the castle grow smaller in the distance as the carriage wound its way towards the village and her new, temporary quarters.

Two days later, Sophie was bored and lonely. She'd been confined to the village, had been watched closely by the proprietress, Madame Rosemerta (at the request of the Headmaster) and hadn't been allowed out past dark. As there was nothing much to do at the Inn except read or worry, and the village wasn't as exciting as the students always imagined, Sophie found herself wishing for the day of the hearing to come quickly. Yet she was afraid of what the decision might be, and even worse, she was worried about her father, who'd promised to be at the hearing, and hadn't yet returned.

There had been no letter by owl post, no word to the Headmaster and no sign of him anywhere. Sophie, almost sure he'd gone to meet with Sirius Black, was troubled by increasingly grim thoughts. _What if the Ministry caught him? What if he's been caught with Black?__Or worse, what if they found Pettigrew and he's done something horrible to the both of them?_ The last thought made the guilt she'd been carrying since the night she let the double-crosser flee get the best of her.

Sophie sat absentmindedly at a small table in a corner of the Three Broomsticks, killing time and going over the possible outcomes of what lay ahead for her the next day, when a voice broke her uneasy trance.

"Sickle for your thoughts." The man, young with longish, tousled hair, stared at her expectantly from the next table.

"Excuse me?" The pub was only moderately busy but the buzz of people talking and laughing over drinks and food was unvarying. She hadn't really heard him and didn't recognize his face. She had no desire to strike up a conversation with a complete stranger.

"You looked about three towns away," he answered, smiling over a glass of amber liquid.

She didn't respond and consciously tried to fight the instinct to smile politely (an instinct ingrained into every _'nice girl'_ the world over, she imagined).

"Sorry," he apologized quickly, looking abashed, "I was just thinking, '_I know how you feel_', you know?" He smiled again, revealing cigarette – stained teeth.

"I doubt it," she answered finally.

"Right, right," he replied, bobbing his head and taking a sip from the frosty glass, "pretty girl like you can't possibly have nothin' in common with a mug like me." He gave a self – deprecating laugh.

She gave one short, breathy laugh despite her desire to be left alone and the man responded by revealing more yellowing teeth. ""Why would you call yourself _that_?" she asked, suddenly curious about the odd man.

"If you only knew," he went on, encouraged by her question, but not really answering, "you'd agree with the '_mug_' part." He looked down at her nearly empty bottle of butterbeer which she'd been sipping on for the better part of the last hour, and asked, "how 'bout another. On me."

Before she could respond, he stood up and rushed over to the bar. Sophie felt a tiny jolt of panic. _Was he making a pass?_ She wasn't sure. She'd been made a pass at a few times before but this time felt different. There was something about the young man that made her feel ill at ease. Perhaps it was that she was in the pub alone, without any mates to back her up, or perhaps it was the way his bluish eyes darkened at the edges, making him look a little creepy.

As he walked back to her table and placed the bottle upon it, she realized her lycanthropic senses were on alert but she didn't know why. It made her feel strange enough to jump to her feet and make an excuse, before heading up the stairs to her room.

"Wait," the man called after her as she ascended the steps. She turned and noticed Madame Rosemerta watching from the bar with a stern look on her face.

"Yes?" She eyed the man suspiciously.

The man held out the nearly empty bottle she'd been nursing. "Just thought you'd want to finish your drink," he said, looking sheepish, "didn't mean to chase you away before you'd had the chance."

She stood on the steps for a moment, his action softening her resolve, and took the bottle from him, still eager to get away from him and up to her room. "Thanks," she said, lifting it slightly in the air, "cheers."

"Right," he answered, "cheers."

She nodded slightly and turned, walking up the stairs quickly, looking behind her as she approached the door. She had the strangest feeling he would follow her but found the corridor empty. _You're being silly_, she scolded herself as she unlocked the door. Still, she shut the room door firmly behind her and locked it with a spell.

Bottle still in her hand, she considered it for a moment, then drained it and placed it on the table by her bed. She decided to owl the headmaster, hoping he would have answers for her as to her father's whereabouts and dug through her trunk for a sheet of parchment and a quill. The room was dimly lit and a little chilly, despite the time of year, and Sophie noticed the window open just a crack. _When did I do that?_ She couldn't remember opening the window but figured it had been one of the house elves that worked at the Inn letting the room air out.

As she sat at the tiny desk by the window, a strange sensation came over her. She had the sudden feeling her legs were made of lead. Feeling the rest of her body become heavy, she managed to get to her feet and drop to the foot of the bed. She was oddly aware of the muted panic rising like bile in her throat. _What in Merlin is wrong with me?_ she thought as she felt her body going limp and her mind fuzzy. It was as if she'd been suddenly hit with a sleeping charm, or given a potion…

Just as it dawned on her that something wasn't right, she noticed a faint, unfamiliar scent in the air. She sensed it becoming stronger and jumped as a hand came out from the darkness and gripped her arm roughly. She tried to scream but another hand clamped over her mouth, effectively silencing her.

"Hold still, _werewolf_," a deep, rough voice said behind her on the bed, causing her to struggle even more, "and it won't be painful."

Sophie felt very weak. She stopped struggling and, despite her shock and fear, felt her body go limp in the man's arms. She sensed almost immediately they weren't alone.

"Good girl," came another voice from a corner of the room.

Sophie felt a jolt of surprise and terror.

"Sit her up on the bed," the same voice, distinctively Welsh, commanded. She was pulled backwards on the four – poster, and thrown against the headboard as the man moved, knocking her head painfully against the mahogany slab. "I said, '_sit_'," the voice reprimanded.

She then felt herself being propped up. She found she could barely stay upright.

"I've a message for you and your kind," the same voice said as a stout man stepped out of the shadows. He was tall and formidable and Sophie was scared to death.

Her mind was sluggish and she couldn't focus on his face as she struggled to stay alert. Somewhere beyond her vision, the door opened, letting the light from the corridor stream in before it shut once more. She immediately sensed the presence of another.

"If your kind think_ you _can mingle with_ us_, you're sorely mistaken," the man said in a coarse, deep, distinctive voice, "we don't want your kind here, got it?"

She swayed and blinked furiously, desperately trying stay awake and understand, but comprehension and words finally came. "Fuck off," she slurred defiantly.

She felt a hand grip her face hard and her chin was forced up. "You think this is a joke, _werewolf_?" The man who'd propped her up on the bed sprayed her face in spittle as he hurled out the last word in disgust.

"I told you it wouldn't listen."

Sophie felt another jolt of alarm at the sound of yet another voice. But this time she knew _exactly_ who it was.

"Let's_make_ her," said the rough voice from somewhere beside her in the darkness. The suppression of excitement was barely disguised.

Sophie was gripped with terror anew. "What did…" she struggled to speak, "what did you do… to me?" She was afraid, and her instincts, though dull, were screaming at her. _Get out of this_, they told her,_anyway you can_.

"Made sure you couldn't attack, _creature_," the rough voice answered, chortling as she tipped over, her head hitting a post.

The familiar voice joined in the laughter but the stout man silenced them both.

"That's enough!" he hissed, then to Sophie, "your father didn't take us seriously eight months ago but I'm sure _you_ can convince him to stay away from the innocent townsfolk of Hogsmeade."

Confused, the mention of her father nonetheless roused her and the thought of him gave her a sudden boost of strength. She jumped to her feet and swung out her arms, making contact with the man beside her, and then hurled herself at the taller man in front of her, knocking him to the floor.

"Get her off!"

She struggled with him for a moment, her hands clawing furiously at his eyes and face, until her head was jerked back with a sharp pull of her hair. She let out a yelp and clawed at the arm but her short, stubby nails did little damage and she was pulled up and thrown to the opposite corner of the room, hitting the wall with a dull thud.

"Stop!" Tristan Cates voice echoed through the room.

The two other men seemed to freeze in their tracks and Sophie realized he was the one running the show, not the other way around.

"I think it's got the message," he went on, "now go, I'll take it from here."

Sophie tried to push herself up off the floor as the others moved and whispered in the dark.

"That's not a good idea, that one's dangerous, she is."

She fought back the drowsy feeling that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Despite Mullins' incompetence with the potion," he retorted, "she's easily handled now."

Inside, the wolf growled in frustration. She felt it struggling to get out.

"What do you mean?" the Welsh man asked, "bottle's right there on the nightstand."

Though her mind was hazy, she realized why she could barely move. A potion had been slipped into her butterbeer. The man in the pub had been in on it, too.

"Obviously wasn't good enough. Now both of you get out, before anyone sees you in the corridors. I'll handle it from here."

Sophie barely listened as the three voices argued in hushed, harsh tones, forcing her mind to focus. _Fight it_, a voice urged her,_fight it or you die_.

As she gathered the little energy she had left, she pushed herself to a standing position, leaning against the wall for support. The distinct sound of retreating footsteps, a stream of light through the darkness, and then she felt only a solitary presence in the room. Cates.

"So," came Cates' voice by the door, "I bet you wish you hadn't fucked with me, eh?" He sounded amused, as if he was playing a practical joke.

Sophie tried to retort but the words caught in her throat.

"What, no snappy comeback?" he taunted, coming into view as he waved his wand and lit the lantern by the bed with a spell. She then felt her body being lifted into the air and she landed like a rag doll on the bed.

"Where's the letters?"

Somewhere through the haze and fear, Sophie understood why this was happening. She suddenly hated herself for lying. Shaking her head, she pushed out two words: "No. Letters."

Sophie was suddenly hit in the stomach with a fist. Pain coursed through her whole body, and she let out a stifled scream. The fists made contact with every part of her body, sending an excruciating ache through every nerve. She writhed unwillingly on the bed, and heard a strangled cry escape her lips as Cates chuckled maliciously. Then, as suddenly as the assault began, it ceased.

"Tell me where they are!" he demanded again, his voice filled with rage.

Sophie knew she had to tell the truth. "The – there's… no… le – ters," she gasped, struggling to breathe. Her throat was dry and she could barely speak.

Tristan Cates climbed onto the bed and straddled her, then leaned over her, pushing his face up to hers. In the dim light, his blue eyes shone gray, and the malice in them was palpable. "You're a _filthy, lying cunt_," he spat out, "tell me where they are. Now!"

Sophie felt the wolf inside gather its strength at the indignity of being treated cruelly by the Slytherin. She bucked under him and knocked him to the side, then slid off the bed onto the floor, her legs giving out as she tried to stand. Cates, bleeding from a gash on his head, growled in pain and anger and leapt over the bed, grabbed her by her tawny locks, and knocked her head against the hardwood floor. An intense throbbing shot out of her eyeballs from the back of her head and she whimpered audibly. She tried in vain to focus but it was no use. The repeated blows to the head made sure of that. _Stop it!_ A voice screamed in her head. _Stop it now!_

As she lay there powerless, her mind scrambling to form a coherent thought, Cates began to slap her repeatedly in the face. "I'll teach you to fuck with me," he growled as his hand came up and connected with her cheek over and over. The vicious action had the effect of bringing her round and she struggled beneath him, trying to yell but only able to manage a feeble cry. _Kill him!_ a voice screamed in her head, _rip out his throat! Do it!_ But another voice, a voice more like her own, yelled back_. No!_

"You little bitch," Cates seethed, his hand ceasing its assault on her cheek, "you feel for Jimmy, do you?" He shifted lower and she felt his hands slip under her shirt. She began to squirm under him in dread. "Think he's been used?" He pulled the blue cotton roughly, tearing it open to reveal pale, scarred skin. "Ugh!" he exclaimed, a revolted look on his face. Sophie prayed he would move away, but he continued to paw at her chest, pulling off her bra. "You need to be taught a lesson, _you__little cunt_. Just. Like. Him." He bent lower and she choked out a sob as his lips burned the pale skin of her breasts, and his teeth ripped into her soft flesh. A searing pain overwhelmed her senses just as screaming and howling converged in her head and she could feel herself slipping into darkness.

_No._

The word played over and over in her mind as Cates grabbed her other breast and twisted it roughly, the sudden pain of the hostile act jolting her awake once more, but only for a terrified moment, before she began to slip into darkness again.

_Please, No._

His hot, stale breath brushed the side of her face as he whispered crudely into her ear and his face swam in and out of focus as he scratched her scarred flesh roughly with manicured hands, his fingernails biting into her sides as he pulled her jeans down her thighs.

_Oh, Merlin, no! _

She whimpered loudly as he pried her knees apart and slipped a hand between them brusquely and she realized it was really happening.

_NOOOOOO!_

* * *

_Let's out a breath... _I'm sorry, I had to do it... it was necessary for the story and the character... 

The title of the chapter is a song by Tori Amos, off her debut album, which is sad and moving and beautiful and very fitting... there is another song on the disc that is about just this subject but I thought it would be too obvious...

The next chapter deals with the aftermath, as Sophie struggles to make sense of it all, while others come to her aid, each in their own way...


	27. Chapter 27: The Water

A/N: I had to post this chapter as soon as it was done, just to move on from the shock of the last one... though, I warn you, this one is heavy as well... please excuse any mistakes, I have no beta & have been staring at a computer screen for most of the day:(

BTW, the fanfiction site is being a pain in the #$! It won't save changes to my text, so just so you know, lyrics from the title song begin each part of the chapter...

Warning: references to violence (from previous chapter)

Disclaimer: same as the last 26 chapters... oh, and the song belongs to Feist

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**Chapter 27**: The Water

'Understand the lay of the land  
And don't let it hurt you  
Or it will be the first to'  
The Water, Feist

Sophie awoke to the sound of well – heeled feet clicking on the hardwood floor somewhere just beyond the walls around her. The click, clacking seemed to be moving closer then faded away.

She turned over on her side, suddenly realizing that the same floor lay beneath bare flesh, cold, hard and unforgiving to the sore body sprawled undignified upon it – her own.

Sophie's mind became more aware of her surroundings as a chilly breeze swept over her, causing her to shiver and moan at the aching, throbbing feeling on every part of her willowy body. The pain jerked her mind into gear and she dared to open her eyes.

The morning sun filtered through the broken slats on the window shutters and from where she lay by the bed, the room – her room at the Inn – appeared to have been stripped of all evidence of the memories that were flooding into her mind. No splintered furniture littered the floor, no shards of porcelain and glass. The only telltale sign that something was amiss was her bruised and bleeding body spread out on the floor, her torn clothing and exposed skin.

_But it happened_, a small voice told her. _It happened and you didn't stop it_.

A series of soft sobs escaped her lips as grunts and moans played over in her mind, but nothing else was clear. Faces, voices were muddled in her mind, just like the faraway voices and footsteps in the corridor beyond her room.

She moved slowly, tentatively, every limb aching like she'd just transformed the night before. Sitting up, she groaned and pulled herself to her feet, using the bed for leverage, as her mind worked feverishly to remember, and struggled against her efforts to forget. _There had been a man_, she thought, _no, two… then_… It dawned on her that the scent of each of them was still in her room. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on distinguishing the scent of each, but the lingering odour clinging to her tattered clothes, her hair, her skin, kept intruding. She jumped up suddenly, desperate to be rid of the unwanted aroma.

Sophie scrambled to the tiny bathroom, turned the taps and quickly stripped all her clothing away, dropping them into a small bin by the sink. She stepped into the claw – footed tub and began to scrub furiously, first her arms, then her legs and before she realized it, tears were rolling steadily down her cheeks and whimpers and sobs flowed out of her in quick succession.

_Blot it out_, the voice, growing bolder, whispered._ Blot it from your heart._

She knew the voice well. It was the animalistic, primal part of her she had always tried to push away and ignore, but now, as she scrubbed her skin raw, she let the voice be her guide.

_Scrub it all away_. The voice grew louder. _Rub 'til it bleeds_.

This was punishment and the wolf inside was doling it out; chastising her for allowing herself to be brutalized.

_If I had listened to you_, she thought through a haze of tears and choking sobs, _none of it would have happened_.

_If you had listened to me_, the voice growled back, _he would have gotten what he deserved a long time ago._

**8888888**

'Pale as a pile of bones  
You hope for your babies  
And this is how they grow  
Wind-battered, knocked over  
The teeth by the shoulder  
Watching the grey sky  
That's acting like a good guy'  
The Water, Feist

"Tell me, Mr. Lupin, does your daughter always disregard the rules?"

Remus felt a stab of anger as the member of the Board of Governors hitched up an eyebrow pompously.

"She wasn't informed of the time change, Mr. – ?" He waited for an answer, though he wasn't particularly interested to know who the snooty wizard was. He just wanted to stall for time until Professor McGonagall, who'd been tasked with getting Sophie to the hearing, arrived with his daughter.

"It's not important," the wizard said dismissively.

Remus got the impression he wasn't comfortable around a werewolf.

"Sir Eggers," Dumbledore piped up, sweeping majestically into the room, "if the Board hadn't changed the meeting to three hours earlier, I assure you, Miss Lupin would be ready and waiting." He said this in a light tone, but the meaning was not lost on the Board members.

Dumbledore gave him an apologetic look, then greeted each member of the board as Remus sat, waiting anxiously for Sophie to appear. He knew he should have been livid at this particular scheme (changing the time of hearings, appointments and the like was a well – worn tactic of the Ministry), but he was too worried for Sophie, who would soon be facing the somber faces of the Board of Governors, the fate of her education in their hands. _I should have stopped at the Inn_, he scolded, but the truth was, he'd barely had enough energy to Apparate to the castle's gates.

Remus had been on the move for three days, after leaving the cave where he'd met Sirius and being followed from a nearby village almost immediately afterwards. He had suspected they were Aurors until he glimpsed one of them and recognized him as the man from the Three Broomsticks who'd threatened him back in October. He figured they were waiting for him to lead them to Sirius Black, not realizing they were too late, so he led the none – too – stealthy members of the_Dark Force Defense League_ on a wild snidget chase. It had seemed like a good idea at the time (_quite enjoyed it for the first few hours_, he thought sarcastically) but when he failed to lose them, things got out of hand. He'd ended up dodging a few curses, escaping their method of "i_nterrogation_" by the skin of his teeth. That meant, of course, that he couldn't immediately return to the cottage, just in case they knew where he lived, and had been forced to hide out in a few caves himself for the last two days.

Dumbledore finally took a seat beside him at the long table set to face the Board of Governors, and was about to speak when Professor McGonagall, her lips thin and white, stepped into the room and summoned the headmaster over in a harried fashion.

The genial wizard hurried over, Remus shooting up from his seat and following close behind, the anxiety he'd been feeling doubling at the sight of the grave professor. He knew it was dire when she stopped mid – sentence as he approached, a doleful, pitying look flashing in her eyes.

"What is it?" he asked, the words rushing out in a breath.

McGonagall looked at the headmaster nervously. "I'm sorry, Remus," she breathed, her voice cracking slightly, "but I think it's best… Albus?" She turned her eyes to Dumbledore, whose sky blue eyes looked a stormy grey, waiting for an answer.

"Remus, please meet me in my office," his voice was low and wavered as well, "I'll be along shortly."

The panic threatening to spill over, Remus demanded to know what was happening (though he was careful not to raise his voice).

"Not here," Dumbledore answered, his eyes reminding Remus of the way he looked the night James and Lily died. The realization made his knees give and it was only the older wizard's quick reflexes that kept him from dropping to the floor.

The wizard quickly whisked him from the room, so as not to arouse suspicion. Remus was convinced something terrible had befallen his daughter. "Tell me," he urged desperately, "tell me now!"

Dumbledore pulled him into another room, an empty classroom he didn't recognize and set him down on a desk nearest the door.

"Remus," he began, "Sophie is in the hospital wing." He stood up, feeling the need to see his daughter, but the headmaster grabbed him firmly by the arm. "She's going to okay," he continued hurriedly, "but… she's been attacked."

_Attacked?_The word brought all sorts of horrifying images into his head. "What do you mean? Is she hurt?"

"She has some bruises, cuts…" Dumbledore trailed, "but you must know, she was beaten, and it appears," the headmaster paused, drawing a breath, "it appears she was… raped."

The last word, spoken in barely a whisper, reverberated in his mind, and a cold feeling seemed to stab him in the heart, numbing every part of him.

_No_.

Head in hands, he felt bile rise in his chest and he had the sudden urge to scream.

_NO!_

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he was suddenly aware of Dumbledore still in the room.

"Remus," he breathed, the older wizard's voice soft, patient and kind, "I know this is a shock, but your daughter needs you now, more than ever. You need to pull yourself together."

Remus looked up from the palms of his hands and realized he was shaking. He forced himself to stop.

"She'll want to see you."

Remus couldn't fathom facing her. _I should have been there_, he thought to himself, his old lover and mate – guilt – making a return. It flooded into his lungs, threatened to cut off his breathing.

As if sensing what he was thinking, the headmaster continued. "This is not your fault," he said, tugging Remus round to face him, "this is somebody else's actions, and they are responsible for them, not you or I, certainly not Sophie – "

"I don't – "

"I know," Dumbledore cut him off, "I understand – more than you know… more than I've ever admitted…"

Remus saw the reflection of his own inner turmoil in Dumbledore's eyes and he believed the wizard wholeheartedly. He wondered, somewhere in the back of his mind, exactly how the headmaster knew the guilt, shame and anger in his heart.

"Promise me, Remus," he said more forcefully, "_promise_ you will _not _take matters into your own hands."

He hadn't even been conscious of it until the headmaster brought it up, but he was already planning retribution on the nameless, faceless assailant. Or rather, it was the wolf. It caught him by surprise and frightened him and he quickly pushed it away.

"I…" He didn't know what to say. "I need to see her." Even though he dreaded it, his fatherly instincts demanded to see his daughter. His heart did as well.

Dumbledore nodded and lifted his long, elegant fingers from Remus' shoulders. "Go on," he said, "I will make an excuse to the Governors."

Remus left the room and stood in the empty corridor, looking around to get his bearings, before sprinting up the nearest staircase and towards the hospital wing.

"God give me strength," he murmured, remembering the words his mother had whispered before she died. He pulled the infirmary door open and stepped into the warmly lit room. He knew instinctively where she lay, though he couldn't see past the blue curtained screens. The walk to the back of the room seemed longer, as if he was stepping through a shallow bedded creek, murky with algae and weeds slowing him down as he stepped through. He had the feeling he was sinking, like a kappa had grabbed hold of his ankles and was gradually pulling him underwater. Then his eyes fell on the slender, sleeping form on the farthest bed and he suddenly couldn't breathe.

_Oh, Merlin._

"Remus?"

Poppy stepped out from her office and placed a reassuring hand on his arm. Her presence forced him to draw breathe and he wheezed slightly as he struggled to get the air back into his lungs.

"Perhaps you should sit down," the Healer suggested, guiding him to a chair by an empty bed across from the one his daughter occupied.

He let her steer him into the seat, allowed her to push a goblet of liquid into his hand and he obediently swallowed it down. A warm calm seemed to spread over him and he suddenly felt relaxed, but the image before him still struck a chord of horror in his heart.

Sophie lay among the hospital sheets, her pale face peeking through the honey ginger curtain of hair, revealing dark purple bruises tinged green on her cheeks and jaw, her slightly pink lips were swollen and her bottom lip split in the middle. Had it not been for the calming draught Poppy had given him, he would surely have broken down – or broken something, in a rage.

"She's just fallen asleep," the Healer's voice whispered to him gently. "She was… she is very brave."

Remus looked up from his daughter and noticed the Healer for the first time. She was red – eyed and slightly paler than he'd ever seen her.

"Did she – did she tell you what happened?"

The Healer swallowed hard. "A little," she answered, "but she doesn't remember very much."

"Did they," he continued, trying to get out the words, "Is she seriously hurt?" He worried about the injuries he couldn't see.

"Uh," the Healer began, "she has a sprained wrist, a few cuts on her legs, her feet, and, uh…" she looked away, "some marks and scratches."

"What kind of marks?" he asked, sensing her reserve at the mention of them.

Poppy looked him in the eye. "Are you sure you want to know, Remus?"

"Poppy – " he said warningly. He needed to know.

"Bite marks," she clarified, her jaw set. "Human," she added, anticipating his next question.

His body threatened to puddle to the floor from the pressure, but he sat up straight and looked her in the eye.

"Thank you," he breathed.

Madame Pomfrey looked surprised. "Whatever for?" she asked.

"For telling me the truth," he responded, standing up. "For taking care of her." He took the Healer's hand briefly. "For caring." He walked away from the concerned woman and towards his daughter's bed.

* * *

The title of this chapter is taken from the song of the same name. The quiet mood and somber lyrics seemed to fit... 

I anticipate the next chapter being the last for this part of the story... It will be posted soon...


	28. Chapter 28: Ending of a Story

A/N: Yes, folks the end is here... at least for Part One. The next part, which begins a year later, will be posted soon. The title, cleverly, will be "The Gift, Part Two" (original, I know but done so those who've been following this one can find the sequel). So, with that, I present to you the (dreaded) last chapter... R & R. Thanx!

Disclaimer: The only thing that belongs to me are elements of the plot and the OC. The rest is the wonderful creation of JK Rowling. I mean no harm in borrowing the characters, just fulfilling the 'writer' fantasy...

* * *

**Chapter 28**: Ending of A Story 

Remus sat under his favourite beech tree, shaded from the warm summer sun on the grounds of Hogwarts, holding a letter from Sirius in his hands. Sophie, quietly immersed in a book, leaned against the solid mass beside him, silently enjoying her last day under the shade of the Forbidden Forest. The grounds were calm, the surface of the lake still, and Remus looked around, taking it in. He didn't think he'd ever seen the grounds look more expansive, with no students huddled together en masse or dotting the grounds. It had been a month since the students went home for summer holidays, a month since his daughter's life had been touched by violence, had been irreparably altered.

Since that night at the Inn, Sophie, who hadn't been able to recall many details, had retreated into herself – and he'd let her. Though on the surface she seemed to be coping with what had happened to her, she'd become quieter, more serious and more distant. Remus missed the sound of her voice. He missed the range of emotions that would play across her face when she spoke, especially the joy and laughter that made her light up, look like an angel and remind him of his mother.

He was grateful that Dumbledore had allowed them to stay at Hogwarts while his daughter healed, tucked safely away from the prying eyes of the Ministry (to whom the Headmaster had reported the attack), the DFDL (who had been warned by the Headmaster to leave the Lupins alone), and her well – meaning friends, who'd been trying to contact Sophie since the hearing. He'd figured her mates would find out about the attack eventually, since many of their parents worked within the Ministry, though he was assured that the details would remain only with those directly involved with the case. He'd answered their letters on her behalf, downplaying the attack and likening it to a cruel prank, ensuring them that Sophie was fine and asking them to give her some time. Those letters had been difficult to write. Not only were they a lie (he couldn't be sure she would ever be alright again) they were full of hollow promise. He doubted she would want to '_keep in touch_' now that she was no longer a Gryffindor.

Despite Dumbledore's attempts to convince the Board of Governors to postpone the hearing and give her another chance, the attack (the details of which, they too, were ignorant) seemed to be the fuel they needed to shore up their argument. They claimed that Sophie's presence would put others around her in danger, not only from her, but also from those who were prejudiced against dark creatures.

It should have angered him, but it didn't. After what had happened to Sophie, he didn't want her too far away and since she would still be allowed to take exams at the end of each school year while being home –schooled, he was a little satisfied and relieved. He would take the role of professor and tutor, with the help of Minerva and Dumbledore, who had both vowed to do what they could to further her education. He knew it wasn't the best situation, as it isolated her even further, but he was grateful (to Dumbledore, at least, who had pushed the Board to accept the arrangement) that she would still be given the chance to graduate.

Remus still held a dim hope that somewhere in the future, Sophie would have the chance to be more than he had ever been. It was a sea change in his attitude (he'd lived too long under the Ministry's prying eye and stifling hand not be feel a certain hopelessness at the lot he'd been given in life), but one that had come about after hours of discussion with Dumbledore under that very beech tree. They'd taken place over the first few weeks of July, while Sophie lay in the hospital wing healing her broken bones. There, he'd learned a few of the Headmaster's secrets and he'd seen the man in a different but more compelling light. During those conversations, held under the soft shade of that tree, he'd found himself wishing that James, Lily and Sirius were there, gathered around their mentor and friend, listening to the profound wisdom he'd gained in his life. He liked to think they would have appreciated it.

Remus was grateful to have Albus in his life and wished that Sophie had someone to turn to as well. Minerva had tried and been mildly successful but he suspected she would only ever get so far with Sophie. Her stern demeanor would always get in the way. The Healer, well – meaning, had tried to help as well, but she was much more emotional, and Remus found that expressing emotions were the one thing Sophie had shied away from. What Sophie needed, he'd come to realize, was someone who understood not only what she'd been through but also what she was.

The only person he knew who fit was Kate.

It had been years since he'd seen her but he knew where she was – still in the place he'd left her all those years ago – the Wicklow Mountains. The pack that now called those mountains home, the pack in which Kate now lived, was not the one he'd stolen away from in the middle of the night with the young, pregnant werewolf many years ago, it was the pack where he and Kate had found refuge at a low point in each of their lives.

Sometime in the last few days, watching his daughter going through the motions, he'd decided that Sophie need to be there, in those mountains with people who understood her, people who would accept her for who she was. The place that had been a godsend to him at the time was now the place in which he hoped his daughter would be able to heal.

Remus shifted in the sun, letting the rays hit his face, the warmth of the golden orb high up in the sky seeming to reach to his soul, and he unfolded the letter still clutched in his hands.

_Dear Moony,_

_I hope this letter finds you and the youngest well. I wish we'd gotten more of a chance to talk. They are so many things I still want to say – twelve years worth, Moony, and I need to let it out. I'm sure you must be laughing at that last sentence, remembering how sometimes I never shut up. Hopefully I will soon be able to talk your ear off. Old Blue Eyes tells me I need to be patient, as Scrimy is on the case. Seeing as how he was on the case thirteen years ago, you can understand I have my doubts. I'll believe it when I see it. Until then, my friend, you'll just have to keep me informed about the goings on back home. I've sent a gift for the little one. It isn't much but I owe her a lot. If all goes well, I may even owe her my life. _

_I've let some muggles catch a glimpse of me far away from where I currently am. You might have seen it in the papers. _

_I don' know when I'll be able to contact you again. I've been looking for a reliable bird that doesn't look like a rainbow threw up on it, but so far, no luck._

_Your mate, _

_Padfoot_

_P.S. Old Blue Eyes is keeping me posted on our mutual friend, but if anything dire comes up, please let me know. I'll do the same. Cheers._

A muddy paw print adorned the last page and Remus couldn't help but smile at the sight of it. It was just like when they were at school and writing each other over summer holidays. Except, he thought sadly to himself, it wasn't. Nothing would ever be.

A small, smooth coral shell slid out from the envelope into the palm of his hand, the gift for his daughter, Sirius' saviour. He had to admit he liked the sound of that. Remus turned his gaze to Sophie and he noticed a tiny smile playing across her face. She seemed immersed in the pages before her, her eyes moving leisurely over the small print, the corners of her mouth curling up slightly. It was only a glimpse but it gave him hope that his daughter was in there somewhere, underneath the broken, sullen girl. He would move heaven and earth to get her back.

Remus reached out a hand and tapped her lightly on the shoulder. Sophie, lingering for a moment on the page, looked up enquiringly. He noted with delight that the small smile still remained.

"Our mutual friend has sent you something," he said as he held out his hand, the coral shell glinting in the sunlight on his palm.

Sophie considered it for a moment, then slipped it out of his hand, held it up to the light and examined it, rolling it around gingerly in her long fingered hand.

"Where do you reckon?" she asked. It was only half the question but Remus understood.

"I think it's better if we don't know," he answered, his thoughts on the impending trip to the Department of Magical Creatures and the questioning they would inevitably have to endure sometime in the near future.

Sophie nodded with understanding.

They sat in silence for a moment, both seemingly mesmerized by the pearlescent hue of the shell shimmering in her hand. After a while, she broke the silence.

"It's time, isn't it?" she asked, her voice low and threatening to crack.

Remus, sensing her sadness, nodded and sighed. Then he gathered himself and stood up slowly, pushing the neatly folded letter into his back pocket and proffering his daughter a hand.

"Shall we?"

She looked up and took his larger hand, the coral shell still cradled in her palm, allowing him to pull her up in a familiar, fatherly gesture.

As Remus began the walk back to the castle, Sophie allowed herself one long, last look across the grounds before joining her father, each of them steeling themselves for the journey home.

Somewhere, thousands of kilometers away, Sirius watched the other side of the same sky, light dusk falling over the expanse of the ocean laid out before him, the sun that beat down on the grounds of Hogwarts castle already fallen behind the horizon.

He sat on a lonely stretch of sandy paradise, and wondered what Remus was doing at that moment, if his mate's daughter had received the small token he'd sent her and if Harry was being treated well as he sat safely tucked away on Privet Drive, finally out of Peter's grasp. He thought of all of them and smiled to himself, hoping they were well.

He was alone, far away in paradise, and seemingly free, but he longed to be back in Britain, longed to be searching for Peter, anything but hiding and waiting. He sighed and ran a large, calloused hand through his long, dark hair, considering his situation. He had to admit his current location was much better than the Forbidden Forest and could never compare to Azkaban. But it was still a prison of sorts. As long as Peter ran free, he would never be. But he had no choice. If he wanted a chance at real freedom, he would have to wait for the Ministry to examine the evidence - the ear - and come to their own conclusions. Until that day, he would have to wait – wait for the day he would finally be able to return home and start his life anew.

* * *

I feel a sense of accomplishment... oh, wait, that's relief... I finally finished! Yay! I know the end is a little ambiguous, hence part two, where the loose threads I've left dangling in this fic will be neatly tied up in a bow (?), like: 

- what Eris did to her brother and what happened to her after she left Sophie with Remus

- what happens to Cates (& does he get what he deserves?) and what happens to Jimmy McGiffert

- just what the DFDL want with the Lupins, anyway

and so much more...

BTW, the title is a Neverending White Lights song... a little emo for my taste, but it fits...

The next part of the saga will be more detailed, longer and will focus more closely on each character as the wizarding world changes around them. Will be much more AU and will have romance (please don't gag, I'll try not to make it sickly sweet - I hate that) as well as drama, adventure and lots of angst (because I love me some angst)...

Please join me in the continuing journey of Remus, Sirius and Sophie in The Gift Part Two, coming soon!


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